


Changes Legacy

by zsomeone



Series: Changes [2]
Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Attempted Murder, Cannibalism, Child Murder, F/M, M/M, Mentioned Pedophilia, Murder, Suicide Attempt, Torture, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-09
Updated: 2014-06-25
Packaged: 2018-03-17 01:19:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 64,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3509831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zsomeone/pseuds/zsomeone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nearly 5 years ago I wrote a fic called Changes.  There was so much more I didn’t write. I tried to leave it but it just never would let me go, so I finally gave back in to the monster and wrote all the rest.  The original was not exactly a basket of puppies, but this one’s even darker.<br/><b>ALSO, THIS IS TECHNICALLY A PART 2, SO YOU NEED TO READ THE OTHER FIRST</b> This can't stand alone.</p><p><a href="http://capslokdethklok.livejournal.com/2147584.html">Illustrated version here</a>, but it's just scene setting spacer pics at the beginning of each chapter, nothing more.<br/>Good pic I did of <a href="http://fc08.deviantart.net/fs70/i/2012/198/2/e/alex_by_zsomeone-d57mhnf.jpg">Alex</a> way back, in case anyone wants to look</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Changes Parallel- chapter 12  
> Yes this starts back with Chapter 12, right after the incident with Skwisgaar, and splits from there.  
> Toki leaves Mordhaus and tries to figure out what to do, after his first idea doesn’t work out as planned. I did warn you guys that this one is even more fucked up than the original, not my fault if you don’t listen. Warnings vary by chapter, you might want to notice them.  
> Because the original was written between seasons 2 & 3, I’m not referencing anything later. However, there are some mentions to the Doomstar Requiem flashbacks.  
> I ripped off a bit of dialog from the Dethklok Minute host in DSR  
> Warnings: suicide, murder, porn, rape

Toki locked himself in his room. It was over. It didn’t matter if they trusted him or not, he knew he couldn’t trust himself. He couldn’t be around them anymore, his control was all but gone.  
Right now, if Skwisgaar walked in, he knew there was no way he’d be able to stop himself. It was mostly only luck that he’d stopped before, he couldn’t ever count on that again.  
And they couldn’t stop him. Even if they didn’t seem to realize it yet, he was far beyond their ability to control him now.  
There was no choice left.

Before he could formulate any kind of plan, there was a loud banging on his door. “Toki! Let me in!”  
Nathan. He wanted to ignore it, but Nathan would surely break the door down if he tried, so he very reluctantly let him in.  
Showing no fear, Nathan sat beside him. "Talk to me."  
"Hows are they?" He thought he hadn’t taken too much, but he didn’t know for sure. Toki realized that he _needed_ to know.  
"I'm pretty sure they're gonna be fine. Skwisgaar was even up and walking."  
They sat in awkward silence. Everything was so broken now, too broken to ever fix. 

Nathan nudged him. "So uh, about Skwisgaar? Would you have really killed him?"  
"You knows I would have." He couldn’t do this, it was just impossible. He had to get out while they weren’t expecting it. "I's leaving."  
"Why? So you can kill yourself and we can't stop you?"  
"Does it evens matter?" Hoping a vague answer would keep Nathan from raising any alarm, Toki walked out, not daring to waste the time to even take anything with him.

He made his way through the haus surprisingly unconfronted, not even encountering any gears on the way.  
Outside, Toki realized he needed to be careful. He couldn’t get caught or they might find a way to stop him. And that wasn’t an option, he _had_ to get way, far away first.  
Of course he knew where all the guard towers were, he’d spent a lot of time out here wandering the grounds. Not wanting to be spotted, he wove his way toward the outskirts, moving stealthily.  
He did fully intend to kill himself once he was sure they couldn’t find him and somehow save his pathetic excuse for a life. 

He made it off their property undetected, but realized there was a flaw in his plan. _How_ was he supposed to kill himself? He didn’t even have a knife. Stupid! He had his teeth of course, but chewing his wrists open probably wouldn’t be effective, he’d healed way too fast when he’d cut there before.  
Out here in the woods, it just looked impossible.  
Well he’d walk then, the sun was setting and the encroaching darkness seemed fitting. It wasn’t that far to the closest city, he could make it tonight no problem.  
Somehow, there, he would find a way. 

****

It was late now, most everything was closed. That was good, far less people to maybe recognize him, very few people at all. He kept his head down, shielding his face with his hair, searching for anywhere that might serve his purposes.  
It had started raining heavily, but he just didn’t care anymore. The poor visibility offered an added degree of protection at least, and he didn’t really ever seem to get cold now anyway.  
An alley, that looked promising. It wasn’t very deep, but in this weather it would probably be good enough. 

How? He hadn’t really thought this through, if he’d at least grabbed a damn knife when he left...   
But he knew that Nathan would have freaked out if he had, after what happened last time. Even if Nathan couldn’t stop him, pile on enough Klokateerrs and he’d go down, he knew that. So it was best that he hadn’t?  
Toki spotted an empty wine bottle, a clear one that had held something cheap and sweet. That could work, it would have to do. He picked it up and rapped it against a protruding edge, hoping it would break lucky.

It did, the bottom broke free but the neck and a good part of the body stayed intact, ending in large, jagged shards. It would work nicely.  
Toki considered his options, since he’d cut his arm badly before and that didn’t do it, better go for his throat this time. Just like with biting, the neck had to be the kill spot.  
Kneeling on the dirty concrete, he took a deep breath and jabbed the broken end of the bottle into the side of his throat. FUCK it hurt really bad, he hadn’t expected it to hurt that much! Blood ran down, flowing around the embedded glass. But what if that wasn’t enough? Determined, Toki twisted the bottle.

The blood poured out of him, _Skwisgaar’s_ blood that he never should have had in the first place. Toki coughed up blood, he’d cut into his windpipe in the process. He could feel the bubbly feeling of escaping air. Didn’t matter. He kept coughing, not wanting to swallow any back down.  
All his strength was draining fast so he lay down before he fell, on his back and staring up into the stinging rain, bottle still loosely held in his hand, rain-diluted blood pooling around him. It was over, it was _finally_ over.

“Oh my god!” A woman’s voice, far to close. What was she doing here, the street had been so empty! Toki closed his eyes, _no, no, no,_ almost there... everything was fading fast now, so close to slipping away...  
Then she was at his side, his other side where there was less blood. Her hands on his chest, searching for a heartbeat. She couldn’t seem to find one, probably due to the heavy rainfall. Or maybe it had already stopped?  
His heart, not the rain. The rain he could still feel, which meant he wasn’t dead yet.

She leaned down and pressed her ear to his chest, face turned towards his. Shifting around frantically, straining to hear. She pressed one hand hard against his torn throat, as if that had any hope of helping, fingers slipping on blood and torn flesh.  
Toki could smell her, she smelled so very alive. Right there, so close to his face. He was aware of his teeth. No! So close, but surely he was too close to death, too weak. He _had_ to be.  
“Hold on, I’ll call for hep. Don’t be dead, please don’t be dead!”

He heard the phone dial, heard her panicked voice telling them to hurry. Her other hand still pressed to his neck, not giving up. No, don’t hurry! Don’t save him, don’t dare...  
But then she leaned back down, this time putting her face right in front of his mouth, probably trying to feel if he was breathing. Toki wasn’t sure if he was or not, he was too far gone, and even her voice was fading. His brain shut down, but somehow, with the last of his remaining strength he shouldn’t have even had left, he raised his heads and sunk his teeth into her neck. Everything went black.

Toki came back to awareness lying in the alley with her body partially on top of his, he’d drained her. And he was still so very, unfortunately alive.  
Pushing her aside, he sat up and touched his neck. What wounds that remained were superficial, and healing quickly. Well that settled that, he really couldn’t even kill himself.  
Fuck, she’d called 911 on him! He must not have been out long at all, they hadn’t arrived yet, but he had to get out of here fast! Grabbing handfuls of his hair, he got up and paced, trying desperately to think.

She’d only wanted to help him, and he’d killed her. This proved beyond a doubt that he was indeed a monster. But even in this state, Toki realized that she’d lead them to him, his bite was too distinctive. It wasn’t like there were a bunch of vampires running around these days. Well, at least not as far as he knew.  
He had to cover this up somehow, since he couldn’t save her. Nobody could save her, just like nobody could save him.  
As much as he hated to do it, Toki picked the bottle back up and carefully cut across his teeth marks, hopefully disguising them. Then, just to be safe, he quickly slashed her some more.

How else to cover this? He didn’t have much time, every second counted. Nice women didn’t just die in alleys. And she was a nice woman, he could tell by her clothes. Not some hooker or groupie slut. Well he certainly wasn’t going to rape her, so he’d better rob her. A robbery gone very wrong, that would work. All the blood on the ground was his, not hers, but as long as the rain didn’t stop too soon most of it would wash away, most of it actually already had.  
He grabbed the wallet out of her fallen purse and ran.

He stopped several blocks away, trying to think. Everything was happening too fast. Toki realized he had more problems now, not even counting the murdered woman, since he was covered in his own blood. Even diluted by all the rain, it was still pretty noticeably blood. At least it was still dark and raining. Since he was still alive, he had to get rid of these clothes and had to get far away.  
Staying to side streets and trying to hide in shadows, Toki searched for anything he could use. If he had to resort to breaking into a house, his odds of discovery went up.

The yard of this house looked promising. A clothesline, with somebody’s laundry they hadn’t gotten in before the rain started and had apparently decided to just leave. The house was dark, maybe the people who lived there were asleep, or not home?   
There didn’t seem to be a dog, so Toki hopped the fence and quickly looked through the clothes. The guy who lived here seemed to be about his size, that was good. He grabbed some jeans and a dark hoodie (blue maybe? The light was too poor to tell) from the line, then quickly left.

Rolling up his new clothes and carrying them carefully so he wouldn’t get blood on them, Toki searched for a place to change. He turned into an deserted shopping center several blocks further away, all the stores were closed of course, but a lot of these places had walkways between some of the businesses, that’s what he was hoping for.  
And he was not disappointed. The ground was wet here, it wasn’t deep enough to repel all the rain, but looked relatively clean, and this corner wasn’t lighted.

Wet boots were hard to get off, but sitting on the ground and tugging, they finally came. The shirt was the easy part, the wet pants a lot harder to squirm out of. It felt very strange to sit out here naked, but he needed to get as much blood as possible off before redressing.  
Taking his shirt, Toki went to the entrance and rinsed it out as well as he could in the water from the down spout and used it to wash himself. He leaned way down, also rinsing his hair as well as the situation allowed. Even without any light close by, but he found he could see pretty well anyway. Apparently his night vision had improved.

****

It was only a few days until Toki found himself becoming very hungry. He was used to drinking from his fridge supply a couple times a day, more if he wanted, and he hadn’t ate since he killed that poor woman, he’d just been hiding.  
Still, shouldn’t it last longer? He didn’t know, he was unused to feeding on people. He didn’t want to kill again, didn’t want to have to. And so soon...  
Maybe it made a difference that he’d nearly bled out before he killed her, having so little of his own blood left?  
There was just so much he still didn’t understand about himself, how it all worked. If there had been any relevant information in those papers Ofdensen had found, he’d never shared it with him.

The hunger gave him an idea, maybe he could starve himself to death instead?  
He remembered far too well what had happened last time he’d tried skipping meals, when he killed the Klokateer, but now he didn’t have Skwisgaar around driving him insane with need. Maybe he could do it? Was it even worth trying?  
How much would it hurt to die that way? Surely not more than slicing the fuck out of his own neck, if he could do that he should be able to do anything.  
How long would it even take?

He didn’t get to find out, because his hiding place was discovered. The poor dumb fuck actually tried to rob him. Even weakened somewhat by the hunger, Toki was more than a match for this guy, who’d had the terrible misfortune of messing with a very hungry vampire.  
Batting the knife aside, Toki slammed him to the ground and sank his teeth in, drinking.  
Shit, they didn’t last long at all when he tapped them like that, maybe he should try to learn to slow down?  
But he didn’t want to keep killing people, that was the biggest problem. But he just couldn’t seem to help it.

Sitting beside the body and thinking, Toki realized he had to cover this one up too somehow. The guy’d had a knife...  
There it was, he got up and picked it up. It was more of a dagger actually, a switchblade. He carefully slid the blade back until it locked, testing it. Probably illegal, actually he was pretty sure it was, not that he cared about that. Checking the corpse, he found a wallet with disappointingly no cash. Well the guy _had_ been trying to rob him...  
But first, what to do about this body?

Figuring he might as well try out the knife, Toki popped it back open and slashed at the man’s throat so violently that he nearly beheaded the poor dead bastard.  
Well it was very sharp, that was good to know. After cleaning the blade on the guy’s shirt, he closed it and stuffed it in his pocket, it might come in handy.   
He’d failed to die, again, but at least he should be “safe” for a few days or so.  
Maybe he could find a tv and find out what was happening back home?

****

It was almost that time. Standing outside a small bar, Toki weighed his options.  
He would be taking a huge risk, but nobody he’d passed in the street seemed to recognize him. Maybe it was the hood? He mostly kept it up, head down, hiding in it.  
Sometimes he caught a look, like somebody might know who he was, but he desperately willed them not to recognize him and somehow, they turned away. Somehow, he was hiding.  
He had no idea how it worked, so he didn’t trust it.

Curiosity was a strong motivator though, the bar had a tv and he so desperately needed to watch the Dethklok Minute, to find out what was going on at home.  
It wasn’t his home anymore.  
Standing out here indecisively like this would probably draw more attention than actually going in, that wasn’t good.  
But it was a bar, and he had no ID, what if they asked for some? Hoping desperately that nobody would recognize him or stop him and check, Toki went in.

No one paid him any mind, which was a relief. It seemed to be mostly an after work crowd, people grabbing a quick beer before heading home. Not a lot of groups, lots of people on their own. Good, he’d blend in better.  
The bartended approached him, but he just pointed to the tv in lieu of explaining, and the guy nodded and went back to serving others.  
The Dethklok Minute was starting, pretty much everybody everywhere watched it. He listened closely, but there was no mention of him at all. They were probably trying to keep it quiet? They likely thought he was dead, as he had fully intended to be. Well they would have to announce something eventually, he’d keep watching.

She slid onto the barstool beside him, a girl he’d vaguely noticed sitting near the window. She was cute, with short dark curls, and probably somewhere around his age. “Hi, I saw you sitting alone.” She nodded to the tv, “You’re a Dethklok fan? Mind if I join you?”  
Toki eyed her suspiciously, but didn’t see any recognition in her face. Was he a fan? That was almost funny. “I guess I ams. And you can if you wants.”  
“They’re pretty awesome. I’m Theresa, by the way. What’s your name?”  
Toki froze for a moment, what name could he give her? Not his, not one of his bandmates’ or...”Seth.” It was just the first associated name that popped into his head. He hated Pickles’ douchebag brother, but he hated himself too so it seemed somewhat fitting.

She held out a hand and he shook it, “Hi, Seth. I’d ask if you come here often, but I’ve never seen you before so I already know.”  
Toki relaxed a little, she’d never seen him before. Never seen _him_. She made him feel normal, treating him just some regular guy. He missed that. But what exactly did she see when she looked at him? He was very curious. Should he ask? “So, you comes here often?”  
“I usually stop on my way home, I like the laid back atmosphere here. You seem preoccupied, something on your mind?”

Deciding to just ask, he jumped right in. “How old does I look?”  
She gave him a slightly confused look, but answered. “Hmm, you’re probably older than you look so I’m gonna guess twenty, twenty-one?”  
“I asks how old I look, not how old you thinks I am.”  
“Sorry. Well you look about seventeen I guess, but you act older. And you’re in a bar, so you’re obviously not that young.”

“Tells me what I looks like. Pretends you’s describing me to you’s friend.”   
“You’re kind of weird, but okay.” She looked him over. “Well I can’t tell much under that hoodie except that you’re not fat. Why do you always keep the hood up? If you want me to describe you, let me get a good look.”  
When she reached for his hood, Toki leaned away and pushed it back himself, but made no move to lower the zipper. “Wells?”

She studied him. “Well your hair’s really pretty, I don’t know why you hide it. I wish I had hair like you. I’m not sure exactly what this call this color, dark blond or sandy blond maybe. Your eyes are kind of strange.” She peered closer.  
That worried Toki, he’d been told many times that he had strange eyes, that light blue/grey that was almost colorless in certain lights. Were they still the same? Would someone possibly recognize him by them?

“I’ve actually never seen any that color before, it’s different. I guess I’d call it sea foam, really pale green. They’re pretty though. You have high cheekbones, a strong nose, and a nice jaw line.” He grinned, and she added, “Good teeth, too.”  
Toki nodded, considering. “Thanks you.”  
“I don’t know what you’re thanking me for, but you’re welcome. Can I buy you a drink?”  
“Sures?” What if they ID’ed him now?! But no, the bartended just set the ordered beer in front of him like it was no big deal. Good.

She did most of the talking, it seemed she just wanted someone to listen. Toki didn’t mind, there was very little he could say about himself anyway. He learned that she’s recently broken up with her boyfriend of four years after catching him cheating on her. That sucked, she seemed like a nice girl. Nobody deserved to be treated that way.  
They drank a couple more rounds. Toki felt a little weird about letting her keep paying, but she didn’t seem to mind. He had money, what he’d stolen from the poor lady in the alley, but what if he needed it for something? He couldn’t even think what he might need it for, but what if?

She checked the time. “Look, I know this is kind of forward, but would you like to come home with me?”  
What did she mean? Just sex, or was she asking him to be her new boyfriend? “I’s not looking for a relationships.”  
“Me neither, just a good time. You’re kind of hot. No strings, what do you say?”  
Well he knew he could fuck, he’d done enough of it since. Why not? “Okays.”  
She led him to her car that was parked nearby, and then it was only a short ride to her apartment. This was one of the newer buildings, she had to enter a security code at the front door to get them in.  
Her unit was on the ground floor, near the back.

She had a nice apartment, at least what he saw of it as he was led back to the bedroom. There were areas where things seemed to be missing, probably stuff that had belonged to the cheating boyfriend.  
In the bedroom, they wasted no time losing their clothes. “My god, you’re even better than I expected.”   
He refused to kiss her, he just didn’t trust himself to even try, but she didn’t seem to mind. Running her hands over his abs, pushing him down on the bed and licking at his chest and stomach, working her way down.

She sucked his dick, he hadn’t had anyone do that in a long time. She even seemed to be enjoying it. He felt better, so much more normal, to be doing this again.  
She didn’t finish him off though, and it was clear that she wanted him to return the favor. He hadn’t done that since he changed, and honestly, not very often before. He wasn’t hungry, so he was pretty sure he could stop himself from biting, but didn’t know if he could control his teeth. Well, she wouldn’t be able to see them at that angle if he failed.   
She nudged him encouragingly, and Toki decided what the hell, he’d try it.

He’d never bitten anyone on the leg, hadn’t realized how large the vessels were there. Trying to ignore that, he settled in and started licking, licking seemed safe.  
Then he put a hand on her thigh, _that_ was a mistake. At the feel of the pulse under his hand, he lost control of his teeth, accidently nicking his own tongue. He quickly removed his hand, tasting his own blood in his mouth.  
Shit, he’d gotten blood on her! It stopped bleeding pretty quicky, as his wounds did, but he had to clean it off. Sliding both hands underneath to cup her ass (that seemed much safer to grab), he started licking and sucking at her, trying to be really thorough. She seemed to enjoy this quite a lot.

“Seth, just fuck me already!”  
Yeah he could definitely do that! “You gots a condom?”  
“Of course! Top drawer.” She pointed, and Toki shifted enough to open it and grab one. She took it from him and applied it herself, but just the usual way, with her hands. “Lay back? I think I want to ride you.”  
“Okays with me.” The teeth were gone again, so as long as she stayed away from his face he should be just fine. He lay back.

She climbed on, sinking down on him. With everything that had been going on, he hadn’t had sex in a awhile and he’d missed it.  
Toki grabbed her tits, an easy way to prevent her from leaning down and trying to kiss him or something. She had pretty great tits, they were fun to play with. Her face and neck held safely away from him like this, he could let go and just enjoy it.  
Maybe he didn’t need to die after all, maybe if he just drank and got laid enough he’d feel normal again? Because this was pretty great, this almost normal feeling.

Afterwards, she switched on the ceiling fan and padded naked into the kitchen, bringing back a couple beers. Handing him one, she sat back on the bed. “Wow, I really needed that!”  
“I think I dids too.” He opened his beer and downed half of it, the slight breeze from the fan felt great in his sweaty skin. “Yous boyfriend was an idiots.”  
“Maybe. I’ll admit we had our differences, but I just won’t put up with being treated that way.”  
“Fucks him, you does what makes you happy.” This seemed a little awkward now. “I should probablies be going?”  
“Um, yeah that would probably be best? I really had a good time though.” She looked almost guilty, probably wasn’t used to doing this. “Do you need a ride?”  
Toki smiled reassuringly. “No, I likes to walk.”

****

Afraid to remain too close to Mordland any longer, he was tempting fate already, Toki looked for a ride. He didn’t want to hitchhike, didn’t want to be seen. He watched a gas station, looking for a truck with out of state tags and a covered bed or trailer. Somebody who was traveling, who would (hopefully) take him a long way.  
He got lucky pretty quick, a very distracted looking middle-aged woman. She was pulling a small trailer with a tarp tied over it, covering furniture, judging by the shapes.  
Toki slipped under it when she was inside paying, managing to find just enough open space to cram himself underneath a table. It wouldn’t be at all comfortable, but he could ride like this. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to get out of here fast though, that would be difficult.

He rode for two days, peeking out from his hiding place every time they stopped for gas to check his surroundings. Finally, in a city that had clearly seen better days, he decided he’d gone far enough and slipped off when she wasn’t looking. He was really stiff at first, after so long in one position, but loosened up as he moved.  
He walked for a while, checking out his new surroundings. The city wasn’t completely run down, just mostly the part where he’d started. Some of it actually looked pretty nice. He had no idea where he actually was, but didn’t really care either.  
Again, no one he passed in the street seemed to recognize him.

Since he didn’t need his money for food, Toki migrated back to the bad side of town looking for a cheap room where he could lay low for a bit. He wasn’t worried about anyone fucking with him, he was confident he could take anyone who tried. Even if they had a weapon, so what?  
But he just wanted a place to rest for a while, and also watch the Dethklok Minute. A ratty, pink, single-story motel ahead looked promising, he knew what kind of place this was. The type of women he’d seen in the area only confirmed it.  
Perfect, as long as they has tv’s. Some of these places didn’t.

Toki walked into the office, a large bell jangled to announce his arrival.   
Very soon a bored looking elderly man came to the desk. “Half hour or hour?”  
“You gots a weekly rates? And does you gots tv here?”  
The man appraised him, and Toki hoped like hell he wasn’t being recognized. “You got a hundred bucks?”  
He counted quickly, “Yeah.”  
“Fine, you can have number eight until Friday, checkout’s at noon.”  
That wasn’t a week, it was already Tuesday! But Toki didn’t argue, just handed over most of his cash and took the key.

The room was as bad as he’d imagined, but the door seemed solid enough and there was indeed a tv. It would do. He remembered seeing a liqueur store about a block away, might as well spend what was left getting drunk.  
They didn’t ID him, that was lucky. Or maybe whatever made people not recognize him also made people not ID him? Somehow?  
Drink, watch tv (whatever was on), watch the Dethklok Minute (still nothing about him), drink more.  
Drink, ignore the rising hunger. Ignore the smells of the living people all around him, sounds of them, seeping into his room.

Toki managed to make it to Thursday evening before he snapped. The hunger had been becoming unbearable, and all his drinking wasn’t dulling it nearly enough. He’d began pacing his room, fighting the urge to go out, _knowing_ what would happen if he did.  
Then some poor dumb shit went and knocked on the wrong door.  
Toki yanked him inside, biting before he even got the door completely closed, greedily sucking down the sweet, sweet blood.  
Very soon the man was dead.

Now he had a corpse in his room, and he’d still had one night paid for. Too late now, he had to get out of here quickly. Another coverup, he took his knife and slashed the man’s throat. There was no way to explain the lack of blood, but hopefully they’d assume it was just a body dump. That seemed plausible, given the area. The wallet he found only had $54 in cash, but that was better than nothing, he took it.  
It was still fairly early, which meant low foot traffic around here. Things didn’t tend to get busy until the sun was completely set. Hopefully nobody would pay any attention to him.  
Going out and locking the door behind him, Toki strolled as nonchalantly as he was able to the street, then ran.

He stopped what he felt was a safe distance away. Now he’d killed another person, just some guy, some poor John. Yeah, he’d learned long ago that he lost control if he let himself get too hungry, but what was he supposed to do about that? He couldn’t safely feed from anyone and let them walk away, if he bit them he had to kill them. And honestly, he probably couldn’t stop himself from killing them if he tried. Toki was aware of blood banks, but stealing the amount he needed to live without killing seemed impossible. He didn’t have a fridge anyway, once you took the blood out of a person, you had to put it in a fridge or it would go bad.  
There didn’t seem to be any answers to this dilemma. 

****

Toki had braved another bar, needing to watch their tv. Why weren’t they mentioning him yet?! It was like they were pretending he was still there or something. Maybe they were, they’d never been good at facing things they didn’t want to deal with. But they’d have to eventually!  
Toki noticed a man watching him. Was he being recognized?! But that didn’t seem to be the case. Still, something about this seemed odd, but he looked like a regular guy. Maybe in his forties, a few extra pounds but not fat, balding on top.  
The man caught him looking, and seemed to take it as an invitation to join him. “Hi, you seem a little lost.”  
“Kinds of?” That was one way of putting it anyway.  
“I’m Carl Sanders, what’s your name?

“Seth.” The man was waiting for more. He needed a last name, something normal, shit Toki, think fast... “Uh, Williams.” Murderface would be proud. Or not, you never really knew with that man.  
Carl sat beside him with a smile. “Nice to meet you, Seth Williams. Tell me truthfully, are you homeless?”  
Toki noticed the man wore a small cross on a chain, barely visible in his open shirt collar. Oh, one of _those_ types, that was probably what he’d picked up on. Well he was likely harmless, so he answered truthfully. “Yes.”  
The man nodded thoughtfully, and Toki waited for the expected religious spiel. What came instead was a surprise.

“I often offer my home as a place to stay for youth in need, would you like to stay with me for a while?”  
“Maybies?” A place to stay still sounded good, maybe he could even find a new home of sorts. Or at least a free place to stay for a bit, which would be a start.  
“Are you of legal age? I ask, because I don’t want to get in any trouble if you’re a runaway.”  
“I’s legal.” He still felt that there was something a little off about this guy, but Toki was confident that he could handle himself with no problems if the need should arise.  
“Good. Shall we be going home then?”

It didn’t take long to walk to Carl’s house. It was small and a bit on the shabby side, everything in it looked tired and worn, but in decent repair. There were a lot of crosses in there. Toki did his best to ignore those, since he wasn’t exactly on good terms with religion.  
Carl showed him the guest room, it was small. “You’re tall, the bed’s likely going to be too short for you. Sorry about that.”  
It did look short, but he didn’t have to completely stretch out so it shouldn’t matter. The blanket looked clean, and the head and foot boards were the metal poles kind, freshly painted. He could see places under it where old paint had chipped off, but they were clearly old. A small dresser was the only other furniture in the room.

“I’ve got quite the liqueur supply here, help yourself. Maybe you’ll taste test some of my special mixes later on? I like to try to come with new and better things.”   
“Sures?” Booze was good, it made him care less about the fucked up disaster his life had become. Could he really just help himself? For free?  
Carl was smiling encouraging, so Toki got a cup from the bar and poured himself a glass of vodka. He could get used to this. A bed, even a too small one, and all the booze he wanted? Not bad. He took a seat on the couch, sipping his drink.  
Carl took the armchair, and smiled at him. “I think we’re going to get along just fine, Sethy.”

Not wanting to scare Carl, Toki had hidden his knife deep under his mattress. He wasn’t sure why he felt he needed to hide it, instinct or something, he just followed it. He could vaguely feel it beneath him when he slept, it was comforting in a way.  
The knife was just for covering his tracks anyhow, he didn’t need it to feel safe. His teeth were his real weapon.  
Yet for some reason, it just made him feel better to have the blade, to know it was in easy reach.  
But surely he was safe here.

They quickly settled into a pattern. Carl seemed to want to take care of him. He even cooked. Not wanting to arouse suspicion, Toki ate what was offered, enough to count anyway. It wasn’t especially tasty food, but eating was pointless for him anyway so it didn’t matter.  
He felt fairly safe here, taken care of. He’d long ago gotten used to being taken care of, having people to handle everything for him. Maybe he could stay for a while, he could always go out and hunt someone when he really had to.  
But as the days passed, he didn’t hunt. He wasn’t going to eat Carl, he’d been nothing but good to him, but still he didn’t hunt.  
It was hard to even care.

Carl had given him some of his old t-shirts to wear, and bought him some boxers since he had none. Since all he really owned was his boots, jeans, and the hoodie, and since he never bothered leaving the house, Toki mostly just wore what he’d been given. It was comfortable. Carl himself often wore sweatpants when he was home, sometimes with a shirt and sometimes not.  
Sometimes he still wondered about that man, but Carl was never anything but nice to him so he tried to dismiss his misgivings.  
He was just paranoid from being out on his own, that must be all it was.  
But here, he wasn’t alone anymore. He really hated being alone, wasn’t used to it.

Carl always insisted on calling him Sethy now, instead of Seth. Toki didn’t really care, it wasn’t his name anyway. He’d also commented on his odd green eyes, so he was also seeing whatever the girl, Teresa, had seen. He still had no idea how the hell that worked, but was glad for it none the less. He wished he could see what they saw, was his face different or just his coloring? But in the mirror, any mirror, all he saw was the same old Toki. This was so confusing!  
But he’d settled into this pattern, sleep, get drunk, eat enough food to not cause worry, drink more. Repeat.  
His new home, at least for now. And he still hadn’t had any urges to bite Carl, which was very reassuring.

Toki was starting to sleep a lot here, more and more as time passed. He was hungry by now, of course, but for some reason it wasn’t the same desperate feeling as always before. That gave him an idea, maybe this time he could starve himself for real? Every day he could feel himself growing weaker, maybe _this_ time he’d get it right. Or maybe he was miraculously recovering instead, if such thing was even possible? He was eating food again, after all...  
Carl, for all his slightly creepy vibes, was so nice. He really seemed to enjoy mixing drinks, and was always offering Toki his latest experiment. Since getting drunk was the only thing he was still good at, Toki happily accepted. He was noticing the effects got stronger every day, when well fed alcohol barely affected him, so this might be proof that he was actually dying. But it wasn’t unpleasant, quite the opposite really.

And then one morning, Toki woke up tied down. So weak and very tired. Lifting his head with an effort, he could see his ankles were in some sort of cuffs and attached to the outer poles of the footboard. His hands as well, when he twisted to look at them, some sort of wide cuffs with small locks on them. The other ends were secured to the corners of the bedframe with chains and more locks. The what was going on? Had he somehow been found out?  
Due to the size of the bed, he could reach the cuffs on his wrists with his mouth but there was no way he was going to be able to chew through that heavy leather anytime soon.

If only he wasn’t so weak, he could probably break them. He’d been strong enough to pull away from both Nathan and Charles, he could probably break free, but not in this state.  
What was going on? When Skwisgaar had done this, so long ago, he’d wanted to be bitten. What did Carl want? What was happening?  
He was okay with dying, or at least he was pretty sure of that, but if Carl was planning to kill him he would have done it already.

Also the manacles, Toki was very much not fond of those things. Too many memories from when he was a kid.  
He had to keep it together, think, _not_ fucking lose it here...  
If he hadn’t been found out, was he being punished for something? What?  
There didn’t even seem to be any rules here, so where could he have gone wrong?  
He hated this helpless feeling!

Then Carl walked in, looking surprised to see him awake. He was wearing only sweatpants, as usual. “Damn you wake up quick, boy. That’s fine, I don’t like them asleep, I ain’t into that. Now are you going to be quiet or do I need to gag you too?”  
Toki shook his head frantically, no he didn’t want to be gagged!  
The man pulled out a pair of scissors. “Alright Sethy, it’s time for you to repay me for everything. That’s only fair, right?” Toki was only wearing one of Carl’s t-shirts and boxers, so it didn’t take long at all for Carl to cut them off of him.

Carl kept talking. “I’m sorry I had to tie you down, but you’re a strong one. Hopefully we won’t need these next time.”  
Toki yanked the cuffs experimentally, they were unpadded and the square edge of the leather bit painfully into the backs of his hands.  
“Settle down, please don’t fight. You’ll only hurt yourself if you do. I’ll be gentle, you’ll like it. I just want you to love me. They all learn to love me, eventually. All those lost little lambs, they love me and stay for a while. It’s a mutual thing you see, love me, Sethy.”

Realizing where this was going, Toki frantically pulled his cuffs as hard as he could, being careful to be quiet. It hurt, and the only thing he seemed to be damaging was his own skin, but he didn’t check. It was no use, he was far too weak, he couldn’t break them!  
Carl just watched disapprovingly, then thumbed down his pants, kicking them aside, then climbed on the bed too. There was barely room for both of them and the contact was repulsive, but Toki didn’t move away because he’d lose what wiggle room he had if he got pressed against the wall.  
Now all those looks Carl had given him made sense. And also the drinks, he’d been _drugging_ him.

Toki clenched his teeth and held still as Carl ran a large, sweaty hand over his body. Maybe he would stop if he got no reaction? He didn’t know what else to even try! He closed his eyes tightly and attempted to endure.  
But when a lubed finger was shoved into his body he couldn’t help it, he pushed away, pushed himself up against the headboard. This guy had weird ideas about what gentle meant, but that was the least of his problems!  
But the finger followed, and now he had no more room to get away. He whimpered a little as it was shoved back in, helpless and _hating_ it.

Toki was just too weak, securely tied down, and Carl was clearly going to rape him.   
His teeth were his only hope, if the bastard would get close enough for him to use them. Pushed up this far with his hands pinned out about even with his shoulders, he wouldn’t be able to raise himself up very far at all.  
Carl started sucking on his nipple, still working the hated finger inside him. If he’d only come up higher...  
Well, the man seemed to want him to want it, that was what he’d said. As loathsome as the idea was, he’d have to use that. Seeing no other choice, Toki opened his eyes. “Kiss me?” _Just get your damn neck into my range..._

With a happy smile, Carl shifted and kissed him, but too softly and holding his body too far away. His mouth tasted terrible, or maybe it was just that it was _his_ mouth.  
Toki couldn’t say it again, once had been hard enough, he just tried to draw him back in with his eyes. He’d heard somewhere that prolonged eye contact indicated a desire for either sex or murder, and hopefully Carl wouldn’t be able to tell which it was. He was indeed feeling a very strong desire for murder.  
Carl smiled again and moved partially in top of him, finger thankfully removed, then went for another kiss.

He struck fast, as soon as the bastard was close enough, luckily getting a good hold and clamping his teeth to hang on. Carl, unlike any others before him, actually tried to pull away, but Toki held tight.  
As much as Toki craved blood, he didn’t want this man’s, he was repulsed and disgusted by everything about him, he wanted to just tear his throat and let him bleed out, but he couldn’t. He needed it, this was his only chance, so he hung on and sucked it down as quickly as he could, trying not go gag in the process. Just keep drinking, he had to...  
Then, whether from stress, revulsion, the drugs, or whatever else, Toki passed out.

He woke up still bound, with the naked corpse on top of him. He probably hadn’t been out very long, judging by the light from the window. His mind was clear again though, and he could feel that the blood had given him his strength back. It was now or never, if he couldn’t break free now, with this much blood, he’d just lay there trapped under the corpse until he finally really did starve to death.  
He needed more room, pinned like this he couldn’t even get a good angle to pull from. Twisting his body, he managed to buck Carl off and to the side, where he then thankfully slipped to the floor. Much better.

Toki studied the cuffs, and decided he would try chewing through them only as a last resort. His teeth weren’t really designed for that sort of thing. The chains, buckle, and lock were secure, but the ring connecting the cuff to the part that was fastened to the bed wasn’t welded. It was heavy metal, but hopefully he could bend it enough to get the cuffs loose. He though he should be able to, but this wasn’t going to be easy.  
Moving back down to center himself between the chains and bracing his feet into the mattress as hard as he could, Toki pulled.

The leather dug in sharply, it wasn’t doing much damage to his ankles due to how he had his feet positioned, but he could feel it cutting into the backs of his hands, making them bleed. He strained against this bonds as hard as he could.  
The pain was very bad, but he kept pulling because he had no choice.  
Taking a break to check his progress, Toki realized that his hands were cut wide open, the skin on the backs rippled and shoved up toward his fingers. If he kept this up, he’d likely rip his skin, or at least some of it, completely off.  
But the rings, they were opening. Not nearly enough, but it was still progress.

He rested, trying to let his hands heal at least some before trying again. He was noticing that he healed much faster when he’d just fed, and was counting on that.  
After a bit he checked, they weren’t healed but at least they’d closed. Good enough, he knew he was just going to cut them back open again, so no real point in waiting longer. He was too impatient to wait longer anyway, he wanted out!  
Bracing himself, he pulled again, straining so hard that he felt right on the edge of blacking out again. Fighting that, he pulled even harder, the pain in his hands huge and screaming, and then it all slid into black.

It was dark when he woke up again, and his hands had healed completely this time. He had no idea how long he’d been out, was it the same night or the next one?  
Toki checked the rings, the one on the left was loose enough! He couldn’t reach it though. Maneuvering until he could get his mouth on it, Toki used his lips to turn the ring and slip the cuff free. Then he grabbed the other cuff, pulling with both hands, and soon had it free as well. He didn’t even cut himself again, being able to pull from a different angle.  
Now that he had the use of both his hands, breaking the leg ones the rest of the way went quickly, and he was free. He understood the chips and fresh paint on the bed now, he’d chipped it badly in his escape. He wasn’t the first to be tied here, not by far.

But now, first things first, now that he was free and all his rage was rising. Retrieving his knife from under the mattress, Toki attacked the corpse. Even knowing the man was far beyond pain, it still made him feel better to slash the fuck out of that rapist bastard. He ripped him to pieces, not just the throat but the torso as well, ignoring the stench of severed intestines and whatever the hell else in there that smelled so bad.  
It wasn’t enough. He sliced off the dick and crammed it in the dead mouth. Stabbed out the eyes, ripped off the testicles and shoved them hard into the eye sockets. Even that _still_ wasn’t enough, but there was only so much you could do to a dead body.  
He needed to pull himself together and get out of here.

Of course, he was still wearing the locked cuffs. This was inconvenient. Carl probably left the key somewhere easy, all he had to do was find it. If not, he’d just have to wear them until he could find a way to deal with them.  
Toki got up and checked his dresser first, nothing there. He headed to Carl’s room and found a key on the nightstand. It was the right key, and he quickly unlocked the hated cuffs.  
He knew he’d better dispose of them somehow, nothing human could have broken free like that and he didn’t want any signs pointing to him. But first, a shower.

Other than the dried blood on his hands, arms, and feet, most of which was his own, Toki was surprisingly clean. Killing naked seemed to be a good option. Well, under different circumstances of course.  
He scrubbed himself very thoroughly anyway, trying to wash away the feel of Carl’s mouth and hands. It wasn’t easy, but he tried. Toki stayed under the spray until the water ran cold.  
He’d learned a very hard lesson here, he wasn’t nearly as invincible as he thought. He’d have to be more careful in the future.

Dry, Toki looked for his clothes. He didn’t want any of the things Carl had given him, but he still had the jeans and hoodie that he’d shown up in. And his boots, but he wasn’t sure he wanted them anymore, they weren’t exactly stealthy.   
Well he needed shoes, going barefoot would attract too much attention, and he didn’t want any of Carl’s, so his boots it was. He’d just trade them out later when he found or stole something different. He stripped off his pillowcase, he’d gotten blood on it anyway, and dumped the cuffs in that to dispose of somewhere else.  
Dressed, and after taking what cash Carl kept on hand, Toki left the house and faded off into the night.

He realized didn’t feel bad about Carl, not even a little bit. Killing him had been a good thing, right thing, preventing him from doing those things to anyone else. How many scared kids had he taken in and made them feel that they owed him? To many, for sure. Even one was too many.  
Maybe that was the answer to his problems, maybe he could find bad people to feed on, like some twisted sort of superhero? Stalk the bad guys and feed off them, preventing them (or himself) from harming innocent people?  
Pfft, a vampire superhero. But it was worth thinking about.  
It was that or truly become a monster.

****

He’d seen the guy rob the store, and followed him. Robbers were bad guys, right? He needed a kill soon, and this was the best opportunity he’d seen yet. Funny, you never noticed how many good people there were in the world until you really wanted to kill a bad one.  
Following at a distance, he watched the man turn into an alley up ahead. Was he homeless, maybe? It didn’t matter, Toki had marked him as food and his fate was sealed. He shouldn’t have robbed that store!   
He knew this area well enough to know it would be a blind alley, his man wasn’t going anywhere, so he took his time approaching. If the man would settle somewhere, hopefully out of sight, that would save him the trouble of moving the body.

He’d almost reached the alley when suddenly a different man walked out.  
Toki ducked back into he closest entryway, an empty shop, and tried to think. Where had that guy come from?! He’d been watching the whole way, and he hadn’t seen him go in there. What if there were more of them? He could fight a gang, but he didn’t want to. He just wanted to eat his robber in peace!  
He waited, still watching. Time passed and there was no other sign of people, and he’d never had a ton of patience.   
Deciding to pretend to walk past so he could get a better look, Toki made his move.  
There was no one else.

His man was sitting against the wall in the back corner, partially obscured by a pile of trash. It smelled bad in here. The guy looked half asleep or something.  
Toki stripped off his hoodie as he approached, setting it on the least disgusting surface in his reach, and drew his knife. So far the guy was ignoring him. Surely he saw him? Maybe he didn’t care?  
The man made little protest as Toki squatted beside him and cut his throat, it was almost as he barely felt it. Wasting no time and not questioning his luck, Toki drank deeply, realizing after a couple short minutes that he’d made a huge mistake.

 _Oh shit he was fucked._ Drugs were in the blood, part of the blood, that’s how drugs worked. The man was a junkie. Toki released him, everything spinning. But he had to move, he couldn’t risk being found here beside a corpse.  
Toki lurched to his feet and staggered into the wall. He leaned, shaking his head in a hopeless attempt to clear it. He had to move...  
Forcing his feet to cooperate to a reasonable degree, he stumbled out. Nobody seemed to be paying any attention to him, he looked like just another junkie.

He managed only a couple blocks, and was too afraid he’d pass out right there on the street to try to go any further. This would have to be far enough.  
There was another alley, this one held a large dumpster. Just trash, nothing too horribly stinky like restaurant waste.  
Toki tried to climb in and fell, landing on his ass. Determined, he tried again and this time managed to roll over the edge and land inside. Plastic bags stuck to his clammy skin, he’d forgotten to retrieve his hoodie.  
He let go, letting the drug take him.

****

Toki decided he needed to pick a name, it wasn’t normal to have to think about your answer when somebody asked your name. And he was _so_ done with using Seth, he didn’t want to be called that ever again. But what to choose?  
He wanted something that was _him_ , at least in some way.  
Somebody had left a magazine on a bench, one of those that had movie stars and stuff in it. Sometimes they even had Dethklok stuff, but if so they were always mentioned on the cover (Ofdensen contracted it that way) so he knew there was nothing in this particular issue. Toki picked up and flipped through it, hoping for ideas.

There were photos from that show Pickles liked to watch, the vampire one where they got so much wrong. Or maybe those were a different kind than he was, he had no idea. But one of the main actors, of course he’d noticed him before. Tall, blond, and Swedish, he played a vampire. Reading, his name was Alex. That could be a good name, easy too.  
A blond guy named Alex playing a vampire, a vampire playing a blond guy named Alex? It was like a twisted joke, he liked it.  
He decided he still didn’t need a last name.

****

Toki was somewhat resigned to killing people now, though he did try really hard to stick to bad people. If he was hungry enough though, his definition of bad got pretty loose.  
He stuck to men, killing women just felt wrong. Even though he’d done it before... Or maybe it was just lingering guilt over the woman who’d tried to save his life in that alley.  
He was still trying to figure out the interval he could go between feedings, and what the contributing factors were. It seemed that the build of the person he chose was probably a factor, but he wasn’t quite sure yet. Trial and error.  
And when it was error, he didn’t care all that much who crossed his path.

He was killing smarter now, almost always cutting their throats instead of biting them, and trying to leave the bodies in “crime” type locations. As long as he didn’t let himself get too hungry, he could now plan a kill out with cold efficiency.   
He watched the news when he could, watched the Dethklok Minute every chance that he was able, and _still_ no mention of him.  
He did move around, and the people he killed were usually they type to meet a violent end anyway, so the lack of regular news coverage wasn’t too surprising. But why wasn’t the Minute talking about him at all? Somebody had to have missed him by now!

Then, finally, one night he was actually mentioned! He caught it partway through...  
 _"...been very concerned about the lack of Toki Wartooth in the press world. He hasn’t been seen in public, where could he be? Still no official statement from the band, but rumor has it that some people with guitar cases have been seen coming and going at Mordhaus! When asked for a statement, the manager, Charles Ofdensen, only said “No comment.” What does this mean for everyone’s favorite band?"_

Toki turned off the tv, he had this room for one more night and maybe they would say more tomorrow? It was good to know that he was missed, if only by the fans.  
Strange to know that they were apparently trying out his replacement. Was it a mass audition, like the one he’d been too late for last time? Or were they only trying a select few?  
But it was good, it had to be, he couldn’t be there anymore and he wanted them to go on without him. As much as that hurt, he didn’t want to be the end of them.  
If they were indeed actually hiring, he should hear something reported soon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Changes Parallel- chapter 13  
> Toki gets used to killing, a little _too_ used to it. Elsewhere, Dethklok hires Silas, finishes the album they’d been working on, and goes on tour.  
>  (Toki switches over to thinking of himself as Alex in this chapter)  
> Warnings: porn, mentions of pedophilia, murder

The Dethklok Minute had still nothing new to report today, and he was out of cash. He’d pick somebody’s pocket later, he’d gotten really good at that. His fingers were fast at things other than guitar, it seemed.  
Toki didn’t like sleeping on the streets, he’d had enough of that as a kid and no desire to ever live quite that low again, so he was mostly renting cheap hotel rooms. It was stolen cash, so no reason not to stay nice places, but he just didn’t really care enough to bother.  
The food supply was better in those parts of town anyway. 

But now he also felt like getting laid, and there were some hot chicks in this bar. He’d even bought some condoms the other day, it seemed rude to expect the girl to provide them every time, so he was prepared. The store didn’t even carry Dethcondoms, he’d thought those were sold everywhere.  
Except that he really had no experience with picking up chicks. They always came to him, in the band! On tv, guys always asked to buy them a drink, but he couldn’t even do that. Or ask for their number, but he had no interest in dating them, or calling them, he just wanted some easy sex to distract him from this mess he’d made of his life.  
What the hell was he supposed to do, just walk up and ask them? Well, it always seemed to work for Skwisgaar...

Figuring he might as well try, Toki pushed him hood back, pulling his hair free and letting it fall down his back. Chicks liked his hair even when it was plain old Toki brown, they’d probably like the blond even better.  
He picked a cute one and sidled up to her. “Buys me a drinks and then takes me home and I repays you?”  
She turned, clearly expecting someone else, but looked a bit surprised to see him. Toki smiled at her as sweetly as he could, playing at being Skwisgaar style confident, like he was sure she wouldn’t say no.

He considered him, clearly thinking. “So you not only want me to buy you a drink, you want me to take you home? What’s in it for me?”  
“Whatever you wants. Gots a fantasy I can helps you with or anythings?” She was talking to him, so he was probably in.  
She made a face. “Kiss me, then I’ll decide.”  
Shit! He couldn’t risk trying to kiss her! _Think_... “Um, nots a good ideas. I gots one of those cold sores in my mouth rights now?” Yay, good excuse!  
“Well shit, what good are you then? You’re not going down on me with that!”

He didn’t want to do that anyway. Toki held up one hand, moving his fingers at solo speed, and could see she was intrigued, but not sold. “Well, there’s one thing that nobody can really do...”  
“I’s listening.” He kept smiling at her in what he hoped was a confident and seductive way.  
“You can’t it’s not even possible, not for that long.” But when the bartender came back, a beer was placed in front of him. Success!  
Instead of elaborating, she groped his bicep through his sleeve. “How strong are you?”  
Toki grinned widely. “I thinks you be real surprised.”

She’d made up her mind, as soon as they finished their beers she got up and took his wrist, leading him out of the bar and to her car. She was silent the whole way, chewing nervously at her lip. Toki was beginning to worry about what she’d ask for, but he’d do it if he could. Impossible for other people wasn’t necessarily impossible for him, and it was _awesome_ to be able to do stuff that other people couldn’t.  
They got to her house and went in, still without a word.  
She went straight to the kitchen, pulled out a bottle and a couple glasses, and poured them both some vodka. She slammed hers back, and he did the same with the glass she handed him.

The moved to the bedroom, she had a big bed. “Heys, you goings to tell me what you wants or not?”  
She shook her head, she must have decided on the drive over. “I know it can’t be done.” It seemed that she wasn’t a fan of disappointment.  
“Tells me anyways.” He was very curious now. She stripped off her clothes, so he did the same.  
“It’s just a dumb fantasy, really.” They sat on the bed together, naked. “It’s just... Okay, I’d lay back and you’d fuck me, but I can’t come without direct stimulation so I always have to do it myself, but I wish somebody was able to do that for me, you know, hold themself with one arm, fuck me hard, and work my clit with the other, until I come so hard I pass out.”

That didn’t really sound too difficult, well maybe a bit awkward, but he’d been expecting something really complex. “Anybody could does that. Just pulls you to the edge of the bed or whatevers, nots even hard.”  
“That’s not the same! I know, I’m being unreasonable, but it’s just a fantasy and nobody’s been able to manage it. Even the strong ones, they make a good start but it’s like they just can’t do everything at once. They can’t fuck good unless they put both hands down, and they can’t finger good and fuck at the same time, the rhythm just goes all to hell.”  
Toki grinned, all confidence now. He could probably even do it before, but now it was a sure thing. Strength and finger coordination were things that he had plenty of. “I can does it. Can’t promise you passes out, but I can does that.”

She just stared at him, shocked that he sounded so sure of himself. “No fucking way...”  
He fished a condom out of his pants. “What’s we waitings for?”  
“Holy shit, dude! Really?!” She bounced into the middle of the bed and sprawled out with a grin. “Come on!”  
Toki crawled to her, in her, and braced one arm right beside her head. His fret hand he reached down with, finding his position. “Shows me how you likes it, then I does the rest.”  
She did, covering his fingers with hers and guiding him on the pressure. She seemed amazed that he was able to hold himself this way with no apparent effort.

She put both hands on his ass, squeezing it, and he took that as his cue to really start. His hair hanging loose around them both, Toki fucked her. It was a little difficult to coordinate this, but he was very willing to try.  
Judging from her reactions, he was doing very well. She’d begun to writhe under him, fingers digging painfully hard into the sides of his ass as she urged him to go harder, faster.  
He was doing something no one eels could do, that was awesome! And also very fun.

Suddenly she reached up, grabbing him around the neck and pulling hard, pulling herself up when he didn’t drop from the weight.   
No! Not so close to his mouth! Shit, his teeth were there! Toki then dropped to his elbow, she wasn’t going to turn his neck loose and he couldn’t let her see! He pressed his face hard into her shoulder, hiding, his knuckles digging painfully into his pelvic bone and she arched up hard against him. He didn’t have much room to work now, but he didn’t let his fingers stop, even though he was beginning to wonder if you could kill someone with an orgasm.  
He came, how could he not? But still didn’t stop.

She didn’t actually pass out, but finally went bonelessly limp, sort of half panting and half sobbing.  
Toki pulled out of her, and freed his hand from between their bodies, shaking it briefly before shifting his weight to both elbows. He lay partly on her, keeping his head down and fighting to make the teeth go away. It was hard with her skin _right there_ , but he couldn’t let her see!  
Finally he managed, and could safely raise his head. “Well, you think you gots you’s beer monies worth?”  
She grinned and snorted, raising one hand and swatting him on the ass.  
“I takes that as a yes.”

**** 

Toki had been thinking about stuff. The vampires on Pickles’ show, well that show he liked, could do a thing where they just looked at someone really hard or something and that person did whatever they wanted them to. Could he do that?  
Of course, they also caught fire in sunlight, which he had no problem with, and also were dead, which he wasn’t. And... well there was a lot of other stuff that was different too.  
But maybe it wasn’t _all_ fiction, maybe he really could do some cool stuff if he tried?  
He had no idea how to even test it though, what was he supposed to do, maybe ask chicks for their numbers? They’d probably give them to him anyway.

Deciding the park would be a good place to try to figure it out, Toki headed there and chose a bench. Maybe he could find his next target as well, it was getting to be that time again.  
He tried pushing thoughts at various people, trying to make them do things. Little stuff, like pick a flower or scratch their head. When that didn’t seem to work, he tried to just make them look in his direction. Some did, but that was likely a coincidence. He hadn’t managed to spot a bad guy either, what a waste of time.  
It was nearly dusk. He should probably give up and go somewhere else, maybe a bar, either this didn’t work or he was doing it all wrong.

His thought were interrupted by a voice beside him. “Excuse me?”  
Toki turned to look. A skinny, twitchy sort of little man with a dark goatee stood there, peering down at him. “Whats?”  
“I’m sorry to bother you, but I was just walking home and saw you sitting there... Look, I’m an artist and I’d like to draw you, you have a beautiful bone structure.”  
This was a bit weird, did people really just walk up and ask other people this stuff? Well, Skwisgaar did when he wanted to fuck somebody, but he was hardly an example of normal behavior. Toki was very curious about what he looked like to others. If the guy was even any good... “You gots any examples?”

“Yes!” The man sat beside him and shrugged off his backpack, digging through it and pulling out a large pad. He kept it in his lap, but angled it. “Here are some of the people I’ve drawn recently.”  
Toki leaned in, studying the portraits as the guy paged through them, they were actually pretty good. In color too, probably pencils but the better ones were very realistic looking. Curiosity won. “Okays, where?”  
The man replaced the pad and picked up his pack. “My place? I need to get home before my little girl’s bedtime.” He dusted his hands on his pants, then held one out. “I’m Stefan, by the way.”

Toki shook the offered hand. “Alex.” He liked his new name.  
And then they were off, apparently Stefan didn’t live that far from the park. It was one of those old buildings with steep steps and a big door, and then apartments inside. He lived on the second floor. The whole building had a dingy look to it, tired and worn.  
In Stefan’s apartment, there was some chick on the couch watching tv, looked like a teenager. Stefan handed her some money and she pocketed it without counting and walked out, completely ignoring Toki.  
“That’s just a neighbor,” he nodded after her. “She watches Maddy in the evenings so I can go out and draw.”

Stefan squatted down and held out his arms. “Baby, come give Daddy a kiss.”  
Toki turned to see a little girl, probably seven or eight, with long brown curls, wearing a pink nightgown. He supposed she was cute, but he wasn’t a big fan of kids. But there was just something about her that struck him as off, he couldn’t put a finger on it. She went to her father and gave him a quick kiss on the lips.  
“No Baby, a real kiss.” He put his arms around her and she kissed him again, longer this time. “Can you put yourself to bed?” She nodded. “Daddy is going to work tonight, but I’ll come in later and tuck you in.”

Toki was watching them together, something wasn’t right. But what did he really know about normal parents? His had certainly never showed him any affection, maybe all other parents were like this. He watched her walk to her room. No, there was something here, he was sure of it. But what? “So where’s her mom?”  
“My wife died when Maddy was very young, it’s just the two of us. She’s my world.”  
“Okays.” He was going to let it go, at least for now. “What’s I does?”  
“May I draw you shirtless? And can you sit on that stool? The best light is in that corner.” He pointed.

Toki just shrugged, it didn’t matter to him. “Draws me like one of you’s French goils,” he muttered into his hoodie as he pulled it over his head.  
“Did you say something?”  
“Noes.” He tossed his hoodie on the couch and sat on the stool. “ Now whats?”  
Stefan approached him, urging him to turn a bit and move his head to a certain angle, arranging his long hair so some of it fell down his chest. “Perfect. Just hold reasonably still until I get the basics done, if you can.”

Toki was very good at holding still, and he used the time to think. It had been four days since his last kill, he still wasn’t sure what his limit was but he knew he needed to find someone really soon. It was better to know who he wanted to kill before he _needed_ to kill anyone, safer. The problem was, those kind of people didn’t really advertize.  
Stefan interrupted his thoughts. “Would you like a drink?”  
“Sures.” But he watched closely, just in case, as Stefan went into the small kitchen and opened the fridge.

Oh, just beer. That was fine, and he didn’t even open it before handing it over, so it was safe. Carl had made him overly cautious, but that wasn’t a bad thing to be. Toki twisted the cap off and took a long drink. “How’s it comings?”  
“Getting there! I’m adding colors now, I’ll show you when I’m done.”  
Now that he was (apparently) free to look around, Toki noticed a photo on the wall of Stefan and Maddy. Weird, even in a photo there was something in her eyes that kept tugging at some corner of his brain. He studied it, trying to figure out what he was seeing.

“Can you look back toward the door for a minute? Almost done now.”  
“Okays.” Toki turned his head as requested. “I was just lookings at you’s picture there.”  
Stefan smiled. “Isn’t my Maddy just the prettiest little girl ever? I love her so much, and she loves me too.”  
Toki cocked his head, It wasn’t anything he’d actually said, this guy’s tone just seemed wrong. Kind of creepy actually, somehow. And he _didn’t_ think he was just being paranoid. “You dones yet?”  
“Yeah, come look.”

He’d look in a minute. Toki hadn’t had a chance to figure out for sure if that eye thing actually worked or not, but he was going to try it again now. He slipped off the stool and walked over to Stefan, putting his hands on his shoulders and looking hard into his eyes. Maybe if he concentrated hard enough....  
Stefan looked worried, and held up his hands. “I’m not gay, man!”  
“I’s not either.” He stared harder, this didn’t seem to be working. Fuck it, he gave up and just asked. He’d get answers one way or the other. “What’s you does to you’s little goil? What’s you mean when you says you _loves_ her?”

Stefan tried to pull away, but Toki was too strong. “What are you, a cop or something? Let me go!”  
“I’s not a fuckings cop. Answers me!” Now he was sure he was onto something, there was no way there wasn’t something bad going on in this apartment. The guy hadn’t asked if he was crazy like most people probably would have, hadn’t even denied it, just asked if he was a cop. He was worried he was in trouble. And really, he was...  
“You don’t understand, let me explain!”  
“Explains like you’s life depends on it.” Because at this point, it did. Maybe he didn’t need to hunt after all, if this man right here needed killing.

But it seemed that Stefan had no explanations after all, he just stood there looking terrified. Toki sighed. He didn’t really want to have to say it, but there seemed no other way to move forward here. “Fines, does you hits you’s daughter?”  
“No, I would never do that!” So he could still speak after all.  
He forced himself to ask the next question. “Does you _fucks_ you’s daughter?”  
Terrified shaking was the only reply.  
“Wrong answer.” Toki stepped forward and sank his teeth into the man’s neck, drinking.

Once he was dead, Toki realized he’d fucked up by biting again. How the hell was he going to cover this up, in an apartment with a kid in the next room?!  
Even if he’d cut him like he should have, where would the blood have possibly gone? Just when he thought he was getting better about thinking these things out...  
In his defense, he hadn’t come up here planning to kill anybody.  
Now he was stuck, standing in the middle of the living room, holding a corpse. Sometimes they leaked a little when you set them down, but so far there was no blood at all in the room.

He had an idea, it was a little crazy but it just might work. Carrying the body into the bathroom, he laid the man in the bathtub. If the blood went down the drain, nobody would wonder why there was so little.  
Just some sick fuck who felt too guilty and killed himself.  
Maybe he’d better not use his own knife for this, it’s hard to commit suicide when you don’t have a weapon. A quick trip to the kitchen yielded a nice little paring knife that should do the job.  
He cut along his teeth marks like usual, carefully at first so he wouldn’t veer off target, then with a slash to make it look like it was done fast. He then placed the knife in one dead hand.

Okay, this wasn’t working visually, nothing but a trickle came from the wound, and he knew from much experience that throat wounds bled like crazy, there should be blood everywhere if the guy’d really offed himself. Toki sat on the toilet lid to think.  
There had to be a way to explain the absence of blood, there _had_ to!  
He thought back, remembered dying in the alley, the pouring rain washing his blood away. The showerhead? It might not explain all of it, but it was the best idea he had so he turned it on.  
That looked good. Maybe he should do this more often, it would be so much easier to stage a suicide than a crime scene.

He had a few other things he needed to deal with here. Toki put his hoodie back on, this had been a very clean kill so there was no mess this time, and finally took a look at the drawing.  
It was weird, looking at what someone else saw when they looked at him. It was hard, trying to assimilate this new visual with his idea of self.  
But he didn’t have time for this, he had to finish up here.  
He couldn’t leave it, so he tore it out and rolled it up to study later. He put the pad back in the backpack, and threw away his empty beer bottle. There, that was the easy part.

Now for the little girl, she hadn’t come out so hopefully she was still asleep. Toki opened her door and stepped quietly into her room.  
She awoke at his first touch, pulling away in fear, but oddly silent.  
“It’s okays, I’s not going to hurts you. Ands you’s dad won’t hurts you no more either. Comes on, you can’t stays here.” He backed off a couple steps and held out a hand to her. If she wouldn’t come with him willingly, this was going to be a whole lot harder.  
But then slowly, she slipped out of bed and took his outstretched hand. She stiffened as he stood and picked her up, but still didn’t make a sound.

Toki carried her through the apartment, making sure he shielded her from any glimpse of her father’s body, she didn’t need to see that.  
Out in the hallway, he set her down but kept hold of her hand in case she tried to run away. “Does you knows where you’s babysitter lives?”  
She pointed, and at his urging, led them down the hall to another door, then stopped.  
Toki crouched down to her level, talking softly. “I wants you to bangs on the door until they answers, okays? And tells them to calls the police. You understands me?” She nodded. “Good goil. You’s safe now.”

Releasing her hand, Toki retreated to the corner, ready to duck out of sight when they answered. She stood just watching him until he mimed pounding on the door.  
She did then, tentatively at first and then with both fists, as hard as she could.  
The door opened at last, and Toki slipped away. The babysitter had seen him earlier, Maddy had seen him, he needed to get out of this city fast.  
But he’d had to do it, he couldn’t leave her like that. She was just a kid!

****

Hitchhiking was easy, just jump in the car with whoever would stop for him, and away they went. He’s gotten really lucky, this man was traveling a good distance.  
Three days later, a few states over, Toki found another cheap motel and rented a room. He probably had a day or two left before he really needed to feed again, and he was confident that he’d find someone in time.  
If not, well, accidents happened. He was a really crappy superhero. That had been a dumb idea anyway, even trying to pretend that he was one.  
It was early, so he decided to take a nap.

Toki woke later, worried he’d slept too long, but when he checked the time it was still an hour til the Dethklok minute. Good, he didn’t want to miss that, not with the rumors he’d heard last time he’d caught it.  
He pulled out the drawing, so far he hadn’t gotten an opportunity to really study it, despite the temptation being very great. He’d rolled it up tightly, but it had ended up creased anyway from being in his back pocket. Oh well, nothing he could do about that now.  
Turning on the bedside lamp, Toki leaned back against the headboard and unrolled it, propping it on his bent knees to keep it somewhat flat.

The girl had told him he looked young, and if this was accurate, he did. Maybe not as young as she’d said, or maybe that changed? The facial structure was very close to his own, that was almost disconcerting. And his body, what little of it that was in the picture, still looked the same. Everything else though, not a match.  
The more he looked the stranger it got though. His hair color, if this was correct, looked to be about halfway between his own and Skwisgaar’s. His lips were fuller, also like a cross between both of theirs. His eyes though, definitely no Skwisgaar there. In fact, the color looked like what would happen if you diluted Nathan’s bright green with his own pale blue/grey.  
He couldn’t really see anything of Pickles or Murderface in the drawing.

That made sense, in some fucked up way. It was Nathan and Skwisgaar he’d been closest to, in different ways, since he’d changed. However it worked, he’d incorporated elements of them into his new appearance. It was oddly comforting, in a really freaky sort of way.   
He tried to memorize it all, he couldn’t keep this drawing, done by a dead man. Sadly, he had to destroy it. He’d grabbed a pack of matches when he checked in for this purpose.  
In the bathroom, he rolled it back up and burned it in the sink. As he’d assumed, the room’s smoke detector was just for looks, probably didn’t even contain a battery.  
It was done.

He turned on the tv, it was time. The Dethklok Minute had actual news today, the band had held a press conference earlier (Toki had missed it, he’d only tuned in for the Minute) to introduce their new rhythm guitarist. Some guy he’d never heard of named Silas Warren, he smiled a lot.  
Toki remembered how he’d smiled so much too, back in the day, when he’d first joined them. They were moving on without him then, that was good.  
Well, good for them, but it really sucked to know that he’d been replaced and now he _really_ could never go back. Part of him had still hoped, but now that door was shut.  
But even if he couldn’t be a part of it anymore, he wanted Dethklok to go on.

****

He’d come to the realization that he had to change how he thought about himself. He was no longer Toki Wartooth, rhythm guitarist of Dethklok. It was dangerous to keep thinking of himself that way. And anyway, he’d been replaced. It was easier if he kept reminding himself of that.  
He was Alex now, a vampire, a murderer. Alex.  
He didn’t even look the same anymore. Even though he hadn’t been successful in killing himself, Toki was indeed dead.  
Alex decided to go out for dinner. 

He had new shoes, or new used shoes anyway, a pair of black Converse. He’d stolen them from somebody in this very motel, dildo left his door open when he went somewhere and they’d just been sitting there, right inside the door. Alex had just grabbed them and kept walking, nobody even noticed. Luckily, they fit.  
His boots were tight, and not easy to get on and off, which was an issue when he wanted to kill naked, for neatness’ sake. Also hard to walk softly in.  
Also they were the last thing he still had that was Toki’s, and it was past time to leave them behind. Alex left them in the room, and set out to find someone to hunt.

Heading straight for the park, it didn’t take him long to spot one. He’d noticed this guy before and made a mental note in case he ran into him again at one of these times. A drug dealer, which was fine of course, but Alex had seen him sell to really young kids, and that wasn’t nearly as fine. Dumb dildo was standing by a small group of trees, didn’t he know that the woods are dangerous? Probably waiting for some more kids or something.   
The park was all but empty at this hour. Alex slipped up behind him and yanked him into the trees, slamming him up against one and grinning to show his teeth.  
“Jesus Christ, what the hell _are_ you?!” The guy cringed as much as somebody pinned to a tree can.  
Alex just shrugged. “Well, nots him anyways.” But he cut him instead of biting, and discarded him where he fell when he was through.

****

Sometimes it worried him how little he cared when he messed up. Whoops, killed a good guy, shit happens. He was taking genuine pleasure in killing, and realized he had been for some time.  
Playing with his food.  
Sometimes he even stalked them, strangers he’d selected, walking or jogging in remote areas. People he knew nothing about, just run up, grab them, and kill.  
He was a predator, not some lame dildos superhero. He’d only been fooling himself to ever think otherwise.  
There was no reason not to embrace his true nature.

Alex had been thinking, maybe there were other ways that he could hunt. He was apparently young and cute, he could use that. There were a lot of guys out there who liked that sort of thing. Of course he wouldn’t fuck them, but maybe he could lead them on a little, and be able to kill in comfort and privacy, instead of quickly and always watching his back.  
Could he kiss, could he control his teeth enough? He wasn’t sure, but it didn’t really matter all that much if he was going to kill them anyway.  
He would be able to hunt in bars instead of dark alleys, they would probably even buy him drinks first. 

His first try hunting in one of _those_ bars was a little scary, just because it was so different. He’d left his hood down, thinking his hair long would probably work to his advantage in this situation.  
He was getting looks, but was it because people were interested or because they felt that he didn’t belong here?  
This place didn’t look like the gay bars on tv, it looked like a normal bar. He looked around, studying it. Well, except for those dudes kissing in the corner, and... Yeah, he was definitely in the right place.  
Alex did feel slightly bad about this, some poor guy was about to die for just wanting to get laid.  
But hey, monster.

It didn’t take long for someone to hit on him, a man who had a moustache that could rival Murderface’s. He probably thought it made him look like Tom Selleck, but if so, he was very wrong. “Can I buy you a drink?”  
Alex didn’t care what he looked like, that wasn’t the point of this. “Sures! Um, beer?”   
The man took a seat at the bar beside him and placed their orders. “I’m Bill.”  
“Alex.” He studied the man’s mouth, wondering how weird it would feel to kiss him. Probably kind of prickly. Bill seemed to notice his interest, and looked pleased by it. This was almost _too_ easy.

Their beers arrived, and they drank them. Alex still wasn’t sure what sort of behavior was considered normal in this situation, and Bill seemed content to mostly just look at him a lot.  
The man was again gazing at him earnestly. “May I kiss you?”  
What if he couldn’t control his teeth?! He couldn’t risk it in a public place. “Nots here?”  
Bill nodded, maybe a lot of people, well a lot of gay people, didn’t kiss in public? “Would it be too forward of me to invite you back to my place then?”  
“I’s down for that.” Well this was certainly easy.

They left, and rode to Bill’s place in his truck. The truck was old and a bit smelly, and so was his house. There was a cat sitting on the porch rail, Alex stopped briefly to pet it. “You gots a cat?”  
“He’s not mine, he just hangs out here for some reason. Don’t know why, it’s not like I feed him or anything.”  
Inside, they sat on the couch. Bill seemed really nervous, having him here like this. Poor guy, he probably didn’t bring strange guys home with him on any kind of regular basis. Too bad he’d decided to start tonight.  
Now what?

Bill apparently decided to make his move. “Can I kiss you now?”  
With a nervous grin, Alex nodded. Could he do it, control his teeth this close? It was time to find out. They kissed, just lips at first. Alex found the moustache disturbing, the way it felt, but the distraction it offered was probably helping him restrain his teeth. He didn’t enjoy the kissing, but it was tolerable. Bill seemed to enjoy it a lot, and soon was reaching his tongue, wanting more.  
Well, time to find out what would happen. When Skwisgaar- _do NOT think about Skwisgaar now_...  
But it was no use, the urge to bite was too strong to resist at this range. Alex shifted his mouth and killed the man before the poor guy even realized what was happening.

Sitting there with yet another corpse, Alex realized there was a serious flaw in this plan. He should have thought of it before, but he just hadn’t. When Bill was found dead, people would ask questions. Somebody would remember that Bill had picked up some strange guy at the bar right before he disappeared, it was time to change locations again.  
He’d had his hood down there, so his hair was what most people would remember. That was good, he’d just get a different hoodie, a different color, and go back to hiding his hair. Otherwise, he was likely pretty forgettable. Just move on, and there was probably nothing to even worry about.  
Oh well, it had seemed like a good idea at the time.

****

Alex had come up with a new idea, what seemed to be a flawless plan, and he’d thought it out better this time. Overhearing some kids in the park bitching about their thesis papers had led him to it.  
He knew he looked young, so he would pretend to be a college student, a psychology major doing a thesis on suicide. He would ask his chosen victims to compose a suicide note for him. Then he’d just kill them in their bathtubs, and nobody would ever suspect it was really anything else, and there was even a note to prove it.  
Foolproof, right?

His first attempts went poorly, he’d killed them almost as soon as he’d finally kissed them, but he kept trying and he was getting better at it.  
He needed to learn to pick them up, make the first move. So far he was still just taking whatever came on to him.  
Alex wasn’t above standing shirtless on a street corner and playing the poor broke guy was willing to trade sex for money, but that didn’t mesh with his college student story very well and some of the ones who picked him up that way had refused to write a note for him.  
But oh boy, there sure were a holy lots of depressed people killing themselves in bathtubs lately!

****

He picked this guy at random, found him in another park. Parks were awesome, everybody there generally pretended that they were there alone and nobody else existed. Except for hot chicks, everybody noticed those. Even he noticed those, how could he not?   
He still wasn’t sure how to flirt with guys, but he had to try sometime. Maybe if he just pretended they were someone else it would help?  
Pretend they were chicks? No. Pretend _he_ was a chick? Too weird. Pretend they were Skwisgaar? Too painful.  
Well, good thing he was cute.

He’d noticed this guy glancing at him in what he hoped was a ‘hot chick’ kind of way and not a ‘keep an eye on the creep’ kind of way. Alex decided to chance it, and approached him. “Hi. Woulds you be willings to be parts of my thesis?”  
They guy blushed, that was always a good sign. “What’s it on?”  
“Suicides. I’s supposed to collect real notes, but it’s easiers to gets people to just writes them for me.”  
“Well that’s morbid.” But he wasn’t running away. “So, you’re in college?”   
“Yep, freshmens!” But he gave the name of a school in the next city, he’d thought ahead this time. He tried his best to look his most cute and innocent.  
“Yeah, okay then.”

And just like that it was working, he’d successfully picked up a dude. This guy (he’d introduced himself along the way, but Alex was done with bothering to remember his food’s names) had seemingly bought his bullshit spiel, and now they were almost to his apartment.  
A newer building, and he lived on the fourth floor. One wall was mostly glass, you could even see the edge park from here. Everything looked clean and nice. The couch was white, why would anyone want a white couch? How did he keep it clean?  
Alex wandered around a bit, looking at stuff. People did that, right?

He wasn’t sure how to act, this was new, when guys picked him up they generally had one thing in mind as soon as they got in the door. This one that he’d picked up instead wasn’t making any kind of move on him.  
So... the person who did the picking up was the one who was supposed to make the first move? Was that how it worked? Hell, he didn’t even understand the rules of straight dating, and he was only guessing now. So he should probably just grab the guy and pretend he wanted to seduce him? He could try it.  
But there was one thing he needed to get first, if possible.

Making a point to walk into the kitchen, Alex palmed a knife off the counter, slipping it into his pants pocket. He was good, the guy didn’t even notice. That accomplished, Alex turned to the guy, pulling him into his arms with no protests.  
They kissed, and Alex was proud of the degree of control he’d mastered. It had taken a lot of practice and a lot of mistakes, but he’d learned to control his teeth really well! He was still working on being able to feed while still holding them back, but felt that he was close to mastering that as well.  
But then the guy pulled away with a frown. Uh-oh?

“Why’s we stopping?” It was always more difficult when they didn’t cooperate.  
“You _sure_ you’re in college?”  
Oh, it was just because he looked young. “I tolds you I’s a freshmans! Yous goings to help me with my paper or nots?” Wasn’t he convincing?  
The guy shrugged. “Yeah, okay. I think you’re one sick puppy, but kids these days...” He moved to his computer, waking it up and opening a blank document. “What should I say? I’ve never written a suicide note before.”  
Alex smiled sweetly at him. “Just says something you’s really sorries about, so sorries that you can’ts live with it no more.”

The guy made a face. “I can’t think of anything that bad.”  
“Makes it up, I don’ts really care. Just does it so we can gets on to the fun part.” For encouragement, Alex stripped off his sweatshirt and tossed it aside. “Boy, is it hots in here or is it just me?” Cheesy, yeah, but potentially effective.  
The guy’s eyes went straight to his abs. He swallowed audibly. “It’s definitely you. Okay, let’s do this. I’m going to be sorry about... I don’t know, letting my mother down by being gay? I guess that works.” He turned back to the screen, typing.  
He didn’t write a whole lot, but that was okay. Making a face, he printed it out and handed it over with a flourish.

“No, you gots to signs it too!” Alex pushed it back, kicking his shoes off as he did. Almost show time now...  
He obeyed, leaving the note on the table and turning expectantly to his rather strange visitor. “Now what?”  
With a mischievous grin, Alex stripped off his pants (palming the knife once again, he was getting really good at that) and headed down the hall naked. “I wants to takes a bath!”  
“Whatever you want!” He followed that ass happily, probably thinking that this was his lucky day for sure.

Fortunately it was a large tub. The guy stripped while the water ran, and they got in together.  
Alex tucked the knife behind him for now so he could use both hands. He didn’t know how forward this dude would be.  
He was very sweet actually, just wanting to kiss (so far), and keeping his roaming hands above the waist. A nice guy, it almost seemed a shame to kill him.  
But that was the occupational hazzard of being a vampire, sometimes you killed a really nice guy, oops.   
The table had been set, and dinner was about to be served.

They continued kissing, Alex retesting his willpower over his teeth. He was doing so well! He’d gotten good, but it was still just a bit of a struggle to make sure they stayed away. That would get easier with time though, he was sure of it.  
And then the man reached down to grab his ass, and his fingers brushed the knife. The confusion in his eyes was obvious, he wasn’t sure what he’d felt or what was going on.  
Game over, dinner time. Grabbing the knife, Alex cut his throat and drank the spurting flow, concentrating on keeping his teeth back while he did.  
He didn’t quite make it all the way, but he came close. That was excellent progress!

Leaving the body in the tub, he jiggled the drain lever just enough to make it look like the water leaked out after the guy died. He put the knife in one dead hand, but it floated away. Well, if it wanted to float then it would, keeping with the suicide scenario.  
This worked so well. He was disturbingly talented at being a killer. At least he’d finally fully embraced his nature, and wasn’t fighting it anymore.  
Alex knew all too well who he was, what he was.  
Vampire, murderer.

****

Back then, back when biting Skwisgaar and Nathan, he always felt whatever they felt. Now he seemed to be able to control that to a large degree, make his victims placid and unresisting, make them feel what he wanted them to.  
Mostly he didn’t want them to feel much at all, it was only distracting when they did. Easier to make them complacent and willing, nothing more. He was still fine tuning it, but it so far it was very effective.  
The eye-staring thing had been a total failure, but it did work through biting.

Really though, it could still go either way, he could still just take whatever they felt. But no matter if they liked it or feared it, it all usually just stirred up too many memories of his previous life.  
This was just feeding, it was cold and impersonal, and he didn’t need their damn input.  
He kept their emotions from affecting him, didn’t want to deal with that crap. Forcing apathy upon them, keeping them quiet. This one-sided way was far better.

Alex still picked up chicks occasionally too, when he wanted to get laid. He could even kiss them again now, he’d practiced enough on guys to feel confident about it.  
He didn’t really enjoy it anymore though, the kissing, because the concentration required to make himself safe was a bit of a mood killer. That sucked, because he’d been a big fan of kissing and hugging back before he’d changed.  
But it was what it was, and this was his life now.  
At least he could still fuck, there was that.

He was still staying in crappy motels all the time, he could afford better, but he just preferred to stick to these places where nobody paid him any attention. He never stayed in one place longer than a week or so anyway.  
And besides, that was the easiest way to get laid, wait til his last day and then pick up one of the girls who worked the area. They needed the money anyway, support the local talent, whatever.  
It was just a lot easier, and probably safer, than picking up regular girls in bars. He didn’t even do it very often, maybe once a month tops.  
Just when he needed that ‘normal’ feeling that sex provided.

He’d had to stop robbing his victims when he switched from bad guys to the fake suicides. Nothing fucked up you suicide scene like stolen money. But he was really good at picking pockets, and had lost all his initial concern about just who he stole from. Just a little bump in the street, if even that, and he had more cash.  
He took only the cash, never the cards, and dropped the wallets in random mailboxes. Murderface had lost his once on tour and it had come back through the mail, so he was reasonably sure they’d get everything else back.  
Alex wasn’t sure why he even cared, but he just felt like he should.

****

The latest Dethklok album had been released, causing the usual riots and chaos everywhere it was sold.  
Alex heard it of course, it was playing everywhere for weeks afterwards. He knew these songs, they’d had most of them written before he’d left. Now they were both familiar and strange to him, the guitars were different. He knew _exactly_ what he was hearing, Skwisgaar had let that Silas guy record his own tracks instead of doing them over himself like he always did with Toki’s. That was bullshit!  
It sounded like Murderface’s had been redone as usual, why was this Silas so special?

Everybody playing the new album, all the time. It was torture for Alex, being constantly bombarded by what he was no longer a part of. Just when he’d thought that he’d gotten over missing his old life, missing all of _them_ so fucking bad, hearing the music just brought all those feelings right back to the surface.  
One guy he’d killed had been listening to them on his mp3 player, Alex stole it afterwards.  
He couldn’t bear to listen, but at the same time, he couldn’t bear to _not_ listen.  
And he watched the Minute every chance he got.

Dethklok was touring again, or about to be. They had just announced it on the Minute. Of course this was huge news, the first tour with the new guitarist, everyone wanted to see if they still sounded the same. Alex knew that he needed to stay away, far away, but he was so tempted to go watch them.  
But the concerts would be televised, they almost always were. He would watch. Not in his room, those things were always pay-per-view so he’d need to be in a bar or someplace like that where they’d be showing it. That shouldn’t be hard.  
Watching them though, seeing them, hearing them, _that_ was going to be beyond incredibly hard.

****

Sitting in some bar that he hadn’t bothered to notice the name of, drinking beer paid for from yet another stolen wallet, Alex’s eyes were glued to the tv screen. Dethklok, _his_ Dethklok... He couldn’t look away, could barely even dare to blink.  
This Silas played well, probably not _quite_ as well as Toki, but that was likely just wishful thinking. The others, it was so good and so painful to see them again. It was mostly Skwisgaar he couldn’t take his eyes off of though. _His_ Skwisgaar. They’d played together for so long, it was strange to watch him playing with someone else instead.  
How he wished that he could still be up there beside them!

It brought back memories of all the shows he’d played. Nothing before or since really compared to that feeling, being on stage and part of something so huge.  
Even after, in their last tour, how they’d worked with his limitations and protected him. Skwisgaar listening for his cue, when he needed to get offstage for a minute. Nathan, protecting him when it all went to hell that time, taking him down before he attacked anybody, and always letting him bite for comfort. Pickles and Murderface, standing by him and being supportive.  
Skwisgaar, after the tour was over...  
His band, that wasn’t his band anymore.  
He wasn’t even that guy who used to be in Dethklok anymore.

Alex kept watching, he _had_ to, he couldn’t have left early if the bar had caught fire around him.  
Everything seemed top go smoothly until the final song, as it was ending the crowd surged violently, too many of the fans climbing onto the stage. The gears intercepted them, of course, but there were just so many!  
The last song was wrapping up, as the gears fought to protect the band. But even distracted by the chaos, Alex still heard something that was like a spike through his heart. _Skwisgaar_ , how could you? Had anyone else heard that, caught it? What did it even mean?  
The band was safely offstage now, but far too many gears had fallen. This was unusual, to say the least. 

Still sitting in the bar, Alex pondered what he’d heard. The cameras had been off him, focused on the rioting fans, but he had no doubts about what he’d heard. Skwisgaar had missed a note. Skwisgaar, the perfectionist who never ever fucked up when it came to guitars.  
First letting Silas record his own tracks, and now this? What was going on with him? Was he okay?  
He couldn’t possibly be okay.  
Could this have anything to do with _him_? Alex thought surely not, but couldn’t help but wonder anyway.  
Hopefully in the next show, Skwisgaar would be back to normal.

****

Alex was back in a bar, a different bar in a different city, for the next stop on the tour. As much as he knew he had to stay away, he’d been moving consistently closer to the path they’d take. This was one temptation he knew he really needed to resist, if possible.  
Yet here he was, a short ride from where the next show would be. It would be so easy to catch a ride and be there for it...  
He watched them play, studying them. Absently ordering beers and ignoring everyone around him, focused solely on the tv screen, listening intently.  
But this was Dethklok, so no one found his raptness odd.

The camera panned the stage. They seemed dangerously low on security gears, Alex counted less that half the usual number. He didn’t understand, why hadn’t they just hadn’t they just brought in more gears? Were there even enough to hold off another attack? He didn’t think so.  
Trying not to think about that, Alex watched and listened.  
At the end they had been rushed, but the usual way, not like the last time, and what employees were left managed the crowd with minimal staff losses. The band was never in any real danger. Next time, that might be a different story.  
Here, on the other side of a tv screen, he felt so helpless. He just wanted to be there with them!

But what was going on with Skwisgaar? Whatever he’d seen before wasn’t resolved, he just wasn’t right. Oh he played flawlessly, but it was just _wrong_ somehow, that came through even in this damn tv coverage.  
Alex could tell Nathan was worried too, could see it in the way he’d glanced over at him repeatedly. Nathan’s concern only increased his own. Nobody else would have even picked it up, but he knew them both so well.  
He _couldn’t_ stay away now, he had to get close enough to see for himself. Although he knew there was no way he could actually talk to them, he had to see them.  
He had to find a way into a Dethklok concert.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Changes Parallel- chapter 14  
> Heavy parallels because Alex was in this chapter, but lots of new stuff too.  
> Alex finds a way into a Dethklok show, and ends up getting hired as security. He stays with them the rest of the tour.  
> Warnings: murder, attempted suicide

He’d found a ride easily enough, to the city they would play next, but there were no tickets to be bought. The tour had sold out way back, almost as soon as they’d gone on sale. Alex had seen some people in town holding signs that read ‘NEED DETHKLOK TICKET’ and had decided it was worth a shot.  
What else could he do, kill somebody who had a ticket and steal it? That was actually a really good idea, except there was no way to know who might have one. But then, due to scalpers, sometimes people using a ticket with somebody else’s name on it just got executed as an example, and he was no longer immune to that.  
So he made a sign too, picked a spot, and joined them. He also took off his hoodie, hoping his hair and body would be an effective lure.

The hot chicks were getting picked by the lucky ticket holders who had spares. Chicks had it easy! Determined, he tried to flirt with anyone who passed their way.  
Finally there was one older guy who didn’t seem interested in the chicks and the tits they were now desperately flashing. He glanced at Alex, who did his best to convey ‘I will suck your dick’ with his gaze, even though he had no intention at all of actually doing that.  
The man stopped. Good. Alex held the sign away and motioned to his body like he was a prize on the fucking Price is Right.  
The man nodded, and beckoned for him to follow. Success!

The show was tomorrow, now he had to spend the night with his benefactor and not kill him. He’d fed before coming here, so he was good for a while longer, but he’d pretty much implied he’d fuck the guy, and that wasn’t going to happen. What if the man insisted? He couldn’t piss him off, Alex needed him to get him into the show. He had to think fast.  
“You really does has a ticket for me? You’s not just takings advantage?”  
“Yes, I bought two.” He didn’t say anything about the other part though.  
Alex knew there was no way the guy could force him to do anything, but how far would he have to go to maintain this charade?

At the man’s house, Alex was offered a beer. _Unopened_ , so he gratefully accepted it. The man led him to the couch. Why was it always the couch? Well, that was better than the bed.  
When prompted, he kissed him. He could kiss, no problems at all anymore. It still really didn’t do anything for him, at best he was indifferent to it, but he was very capable.  
When the man slid hands under his shirt, trying to take it back off, he realized he needed to come up with something and _fast_.  
Acting shy and pulling away, he finished his beer to buy a few moments to think.

And finally, Alex had an idea that just might work. Depended on the guy really, but it was worth taking a shot. He knew he looked young, maybe if he was jailbait the guy would back off on his own? “I gots to confess something?”  
“And what is it?”  
“Uh, I’s kinds of only seventeens? Please don’ts be mads at me!”  
“Oh.” His disappointment was obvious, he sighed deeply. “Well I’m glad you told me now.”  
“You’s not mads?”  
“No. But I think you’d better sleep out here.”

****

The line was so long! They’d gotten here reasonably early, but a huge line had already formed, stretching so far that Alex could barely even see the stage from here.  
His date, of course he’d mentioned his name but it hadn’t stuck, was wearing an old Dethklok t-shirt, from one of the earliest tours. It was on good condition, so he probably saved it for special occasions. It was too tight, he must have been thinner back then. He had a bottle of water he was drinking, he’d offered Alex one too but he’d declined.  
A few people waiting in the line had apparently fainted. Or died, being Dethklok, it really could be either.

It was hot out here, judging by how much some of the people were sweating. Alex knew that he was getting weird looks for wearing a hoodie, even though he was far from the only one. He was very likely the only one who was comfortable in it, just like how he didn’t seem to get cold, the heat of the sun didn’t bother him either.  
That was a bit puzzling, now that he thought about it. He usually ended up sweaty when he got laid, possibly from exertion, but otherwise seemed pretty oblivious to temperatures.

Finally the line started moving, and they slowly shuffled their way closer to the gate. He could see the gate Klokateers now.  
The stage was empty, setup completed. He’d never actually seen it from this side before, the audience’s side. It looked very brutal indeed, all spikes and sharp angles.  
What side would Skwisgaar be on?! He’d been switching it up again, this tour, and Alex wanted to be on his side of the stage if at all possible. Besides, the center was not a safe place to be.  
Well of course the pit wouldn’t really hurt him, no matter how bad it got, but he just didn’t want the distraction.

They were approaching the gate. Damnit, which side?! He had to choose soon, and if he guessed wrong there would be no chance to move, not with the way the crowd was packing in.   
Alex thought hard. The stage faced north... Skwisgaar liked to be in the sun when there was any, so he’d probably be on the right side then? Facing it right side, not stage right side. That was the side the gate was on, it would be easier to reach a spot there than to fight all the way across.  
He turned to his date, they were nearly to the head of the line now. “I wants to be on the rights side!” He had to yell a little to be heard above the noise of all the people.  
“Sure, whatever you want!”

The ticket gears, he wondered if he knew them? Well, he didn’t know _any_ of them really, but if they had been in Mordhaus when he had or if they were new? Not that it mattered, it was just strange to be so close to some again, and to _not_ be one of the ones they protected. They were actually a bit scary, that was good.  
The guy grabbed his arm, and Alex led them into the crowd, trying to get a position he wanted. They didn’t make it all the way to the font, the crowd was already too packed for that, but maybe that was for the best? How close could he safely get to them, his old band? How could he be sure they wouldn’t _really_ see him?  
This better be Skwisgaar’s side of the stage!

In the tightly packed wall of bodies, they waited. The sun was setting now, throwing hard shadows across the stage.  
Moving in those shadows, dim shapes, they came out and took their places. The crowd surged, pressing so tight that it was hard to breathe. Alex planted his feet firmly and tried to hold his ground.  
“You okay!?” His date yelled in his ear.  
Well it was nice of him to be concerned. Alex nodded, his eyes glued to the stage. The lights came on.  
YES! Skwisgaar’s side! He’d picked right!

The music started and almost immediately a pit started to form, pushing those around it even tighter. This was really brutal, no wonder so many people died at their shows!  
Alex could still breathe okay, most likely due to being, well, an extra strong vampire, but the people packed around him were wheezing already. Not that they seemed to care.  
Ignoring the crowd, he watched them play, soaking up every note.  
Then the crowd pressure eased a shade, some barrier had broken on his side, letting bodies spill over, and now they were only very tightly packed.

It was so much harder than he’d thought it would be, being in the audience. Being able to _see_ them again, after so long. And of course, not being on stage with them.  
Ofdensen himself was on stage tonight, back in the shadows but there, that was a bad sign. They were _that_ low on security? Alex thought there were about as many as the last show, and they’d managed.  
Or maybe it would be different, because _he_ was there? Weird things had always tended to happen when the five of them were together, he couldn’t assume that him having changed would change that.  
If something happened now, would it be his fault?

His date cheered, able to breathe for the moment, then turned for a quick kiss. The guy had decided that kissing was okay, or at least not illegal or whatever. Alex obliged. He still had no plans to kill this one, so he might as well play it out a while longer. He’d find a way to get rid of him later, until then he’d humor the poor man to an extent.  
He watched them play, his eyes locked on Skwisgaar. There was something tragically beautiful about him now, something that scared Alex to see it.  
He still missed him _so_ much! Well, all of them, but Skwisgaar more than the others.

And then... _What_ , Silas got a solo?! That was fucked up, he’d never gotten one no matter how hard he’s begged and pleaded! Fucking bullshit! That wasn’t fair!  
But that was also a huge neon sign on just how not okay Skwisgaar was. That wasn’t the Skwisgaar he knew so well, who was this man? Why had he changed so much?  
And his playing was still wrong somehow, it was even more obvious in person. Perfectly in tune and flawless, but somehow also flat and dead, lifeless.  
Alex couldn’t take his eyes off him, couldn’t look away.

Nathan’s growl washed over him, Pickles’ drumbeats seemed to have replaced his heart’s rhythm, and Skwisgaar’s guitar... Skwisgaar, what’s wrong, what happened? In the odd tunnel vision he’d developed, the others he still saw, but it was as if a cold blue spotlight was focused on Skwisgaar, separating him, making him bright but oh so alone.  
The stage lights were all red, he knew that, and shone on all of therm, but somehow the illusion persisted.  
Nothing but Skwisgaar’s guitar, wailing and desolate.   
It hurt to listen, twisting and sharp, somewhere deep inside.

Then in the last song, everything went to hell. The audience erupted into an unruly mob, people fighting anyone they could land a punch on, and many more swarming the stage with any makeshift weapon they could get their hands on.  
Alex himself took several hits but didn’t give a shit, they’d heal very fast. He threw punches too, flooring those he hit, eyes on the stage.  
Most of the gears were trying to get the band to safety, while Ofdensen and a select few tried to hold back the masses. And they were losing, soon that puny line of defense would be gone.  
The band wasn’t completely off yet, hesitating, apparently there was trouble on that side too.

Alex didn’t think, he just started shoving his way to the stage, leaving his date behind. He’d find the guy later, well maybe, he didn’t really care much either way.  
The wall of bodies should have been impossible to push through, but Alex was really capable these days and he made steady progress. He fought his way forward with single minded determination.  
Finally reaching the stage, Alex climbed on, terrified that Ofdensen would recognize him, but he had to help. He fought his way to the manager and floored two of the guys attacking him, then a few more.

At least Ofdensen seemed to realize he was helping instead of attacking, and acting on some instinct, they turned their backs to each other and managed to fight off the mob long enough for the band to be safe.  
He was planning to fade away afterwards, what choice did he really have? But when Ofdensen motioned for him to follow, he did.  
What was he doing? This was a terrible idea, even if the manager was really only seeing Alex. But still he followed.  
They stopped in an area backstage. Alex looked around, but the band was already safely out of sight. That was good.

Ofdensen turned to him. "Thank you for your help. Would you like a job? You're quite good, and as you can see, we're a little short on security."  
Shit, Alex didn’t know what to say. How could he even say anything? Surely his voice would be recognized. Concentrating hard, he fought to speak without an accent. "You would _give_ me a job?"  
"Tell me, would you die for Dethklok?"  
To stay a while, to see them all again? Did he dare? It was a bad idea, a terrible idea, the _worst_ idea, but he found he couldn’t resist, he had to do it. As for the ‘dying for them’ part, of course, that wasn’t even a question. "Yes."   
"Alright then. Don't go anywhere, I have some questions for you."

Alex waited, knowing this was a very stupid thing to be doing. He should leave, he should just slip away now.  
Just standing here, where he would have waited to go on stage, it twisted like a knife in his chest. This had been his life, but that was over. He could remember them, how they’d all pause to get their brutal expressions on, their paint still fresh and sharp, before they all stepped out to play.  
On the stage with them, _that_ was where he belonged.  
Had belonged.  
He probably had only seconds until the manager returned, he _really_ should leave.

But he couldn’t, he might as well have been rooted in place. He’d just have to try to speak as clearly as possible, and hope like hell they didn’t really see him. Well, that they didn’t see _Toki_. It would be best if they ignored Alex as well though.  
Ofdensen was back, time was up, motioning for him to follow. They went into one of the backstage side rooms, and the door was closed. "What's your name, and how old are you?"  
"Alex. And I'm a lot _older_ than I _look_."  
"What's your last name?"  
"I don't have one _anymore_." He really hoped that would be acceptable, since he’d never bothered to come up with anything to use.

Fortunately, Ofdensen just nodded and made some note. "Is that man you were with your father?"  
That was funny, but he kept a straight face. He wasn’t all that surprised the manager had noticed, it was his job to notice things. "No, _just_ my date."  
"Are you willing to get rid of him?"  
Alex shrugged. "Yes. He means _nothing_ to me." He’d planned to just ditch him, but if he was going to be around Dethklok, he really should feed again first just to be safe. Easier to kill that one than hunt for another, and it wasn’t like he’d never killed anyone innocent before. Well, a lot of someones.  
“Very well. You'll work with me, as stage security. And although we can't make it official until after the tour, I'd like you to wear a Klokateer uniform. We'll brand you as soon as we get home." 

That was high praise, offers like this were very seldom made. It also spoke of how desperate the situation had become. But of course, he couldn’t do that. "No."  
"What do you mean, no?"  
How could he be a gear, after everything that had happened? How could he ever settle for that, after being part of Dethklok? And there was no way he could stay with them very long anyway, not with his strong need to kill. "I won't _wear_ it, and I won't be branded. No."  
"We'll discuss that later. In the meantime, you may room with our staff." Ofdensen opened the door and motioned to a waiting gear, and Alex followed the man to his temporary lodging.

He had never actually been in the gear area of the copter, it was surprisingly nice. Well, compared to the lower levels of Mordhaus anyway. Nobody there seemed to recognize him, which was reassuring. The gear in charge assigned him a cot, pointed out the bathrooms and showers, and rattled off a list of mealtimes.  
Of course he had no interest in meals, but it was good that the times were scattered (due to shifts?), nobody was likely to ever realize that he didn’t eat. He _could_ of course, but why bother? It was such a waste of time.

Now that he was actually inside where the band might see him, Alex was thinking his refusal to wear a hood hadn’t been his best idea. No one would recognize him under one, he wouldn’t have anything to worry about... but he just couldn’t bring himself to wear that. _He wasn’t a gear_.  
To have a bed, and be safe for a little while? This wasn’t a bad deal at all.  
But there was something he still needed to take care of first, the man who had been his date and had brought him here. If he was even still alive...

Leaving briefly, he finally managed to locate his date, who had miraculously survived the carnage, but he was hurt. Bodies still littered the ground, it had been worse than usual out there. The cleanup crews hadn’t yet arrived, so what was one more body?  
“You’re okay?” The man seemed genuinely surprised, and happy to see him. “Help me!”  
“Sorries.” It was better to be safe, it had been a few days already since he last ate and he couldn’t be sure when he’d get another chance. Alex cut the man’s throat and quickly pressed his mouth to the wound, drinking.

****

Alex was very nervous when alone with Ofdensen, but so far it seemed to be going okay. He was being given far more clearance that usual, another sign that times were desperate indeed.  
When left alone, he’d been unable to resist looking through his own file. He was presumed dead, as he pretty much expected. They’d found no trace of him, so his methods of covering his tracks were indeed proven effective.  
Skwisgaar’s file was far more worrisome, it was noted that he seemed suicidal and would be placed under watch in the unspecified future. Skwisgaar, _why_? Was it because of him, somehow? He couldn’t possibly have meant that much to him, could he?

Taking orders from Ofdensen was really weird too, even if he wasn’t actually ordered to do very much. Alex had a feeling that the manager had something in particular planned for him, but he couldn’t guess what it might be.  
It was somewhat reassuring that the illusion or whatever seemed to be holding so far. Ofdensen seemed to regard him as a curiosity, someone to maybe keep an eye on for now, but not as any real threat or as a... former guitarist.  
There were a lot of staff meetings, but he wasn’t invited to those.

He’d had no interaction with the band at all, only the manager. He’d seen them at a distance several times, but purposely avoided them. It was just too hard, _his_ band, had been his band, how could he possible keep up this desperate charade around them? He kept his hood up all the time, hiding in it as well as he could.  
But Ofdensen announced that they would both be on stage during the next show.  
If only he could make himself put on a damn Klokateer hood... but even when he’d actually tried, during a rare time that he was alone in his quarters, he’d been unable to actually don the damn thing.

It was weird, being (sort of) a gear. He bunked with the others, on his own cot, even showered with them. No tv, but he didn’t need to watch the Minute here, not when he was with them. Alex was under only Ofdensen, the commanding gear in his bunk never had orders for him, just woke him up (if necessary) told him to go report to the boss.  
His duties seemed to be mostly to check things, read through the files, or study footage of the fan riots. Understanding how they worked themselves into that state would hopefully help prevent future problems from escalating to that extent.

It was so different, looking into this side of things. On stage he’d always completely ignored the audience, they all did, and just assumed their security would protect them.  
On the tapes, the violence seemed to start in isolated pockets, then spread like wildfire through the whole crowd. How were they supposed to stop something like that?! He was happy to kick massive amounts of ass, of course, but they were supposed to diffuse it if possible instead.  
He kept watching, leaning close, trying to find the rhythm in how it spread. It just looked so random!

****

Being on stage with them was harder than he’d expected. He’d thought he was mentally prepared, but it was to be there on stage with them again, so close, and to no longer be a part of it was like a slap in the face.  
Hiding back in the shadows, supposed top go unnoticed, not very far from where he’d be standing if he was playing...  
He watched them, all of them in turn. Studying them, envying them.  
He’d been placed on the side opposite Skwisgaar, which was a good thing, and also really sucked.

Alex had to admit that Silas was very good, probably even his equal if he still played. It hurt that he got to play that solo again though!  
The crowd, fuck them, they still weren’t doing anything much yet, Alex watched the band. His fingers twitched, trying to play a guitar that wasn’t under them, so he stuffed his hands in his pockets to hide that and tried to stand completely still and unnoticed.  
The crowd surged at the end, but it was comparatively minor and they held the stage with little effort.  
He could handle this.

But then Ofdensen reassigned him to the band areas! It was so damn much harder, walking around, seeing them up close. He didn’t speak to them, but since he was unhooded they seemed to regard him as a friend, or at least some sort of pet, he really wasn’t sure which. Just as long as they didn’t see Toki, it really didn’t matter which.  
But nobody saw through to him, and Alex slowly allowed himself to relax a little.  
Silas, or Sy as they usually called him, seemed like a nice guy.  
The routine was simple, make rounds through all the areas the band tended to frequent and make sure everybody seemed fine.

Nathan was napping, he’d always tended to sleep a lot during tours. It was the easiest way to pass the time.  
Murderface was watching some video showing some sort of surgical procedures. The narration was in a language that Alex couldn’t understand, and very likely Murderface couldn’t either, not that he seemed to care. What body part was that even? Zoomed that far in, he couldn’t even guess.  
Pickles was listening to something on his headphones, and most likely high. That was fine, that was pretty much his normal state anyway.

But he couldn’t account for Skwisgaar or Sy, and he was supposed to find all of them every so often. The studio then, he hadn’t looked there yet.  
Yeah that’s where they were, and clearly he was interrupting a lesson, but they seemed to be finishing up.  
Sy grinned over at him. "Hey man, you wanna play with us? This guy is too awesome, you could me feel better about my playing."  
Skwisgaar actually smiled, it hurt that he was smiling at him, but not at _him_. Fuck, he missed him so much, even now. "I gives you a lessons, if you wants."  
That was impossible, his playing would give him away in a heartbeat. Alex shook his head quickly. "I _don't_ play."

****

The next couple shows passed relatively uneventfully. Sy got _two_ solos now, that was just so unheard of. Alex did his job, staying off to the side and fighting when needed.  
He was interacting with the (his) band more now, getting more comfortable since none of them seemed to actually see him. He was just another employee, so far.  
He was aware of the passing time though, and knew he would need to feed again sometime, somehow. If he waited until the last show...  
They had ice cream, he’d been eating a lot of it to push the timetable back as far as possible. Of course they just thought he liked it. And he still did, but that wasn’t the point.  
Apparently vampirism cured diabetes.

He did his duties, made his rounds, kept tabs on his former bandmates. They were actually being very well behaved this tour, compared to some of the past ones. Oh boy did he ever remember...  
He still studied the concert footage, but hadn’t been able to determine any real patterns in the fan riots. The older footage, the shows he was actually in, were harder to watch. Strange too though, seeing these things he’d never noticed from the stage.  
His life had taken some strange turns indeed, for him to be sitting here watching his former self play, surrounded by his band that he was now a stranger to.

Looking at the schedule, there were only a coupe shows left. If he could hold out until the last one, and get a good feed, he could safely ride home with them. He wasn’t at all sure he wanted to do that, well he _knew_ he wanted to but that it was a terrible idea, it was probably far for the best if he disappeared after the last show, it not even earlier.  
But doubts about Skwisgaar held him, if he was actually planning something stupid he’d probably do it then, when the tour was all over. Not before, he had too much of a commitment. And if it was something he could have prevented just by staying...  
Well he’d escaped from Mordland once before, he could probably do it again when the time came.

Alex was surprised to be called for a special meeting with Ofdensen. Had he somehow been found out?! It didn’t take much for that paranoia to spring back to the surface again. Very nervous, he entered the office.  
"How would you like to be my assistant, instead of just a regular Klokateer?"  
That wasn’t anything he’d expected. Still wasn’t an option, of course, but he was curious. "How is that _different_?"  
"Well, you wouldn't be required to wear the official uniform, although I'd rather you dress a little better than you do now.” He glanced down at Alex’s jeans with the holes worn in the knees. “And although you're still required to wear the brand, you can pick where to put it."  
"Do you _have_ one?" That was something they’d all wondered about, and now he could openly ask.  
"Yes I do, on my lower back. It's a symbol of loyalty that we insist on, I could hardly be exempt."

As much as he desperately wished he could somehow stay, go home, it just wasn’t possible to accept. "No. I _won't_ do it."  
"I don't think you understand what's at stake here. It's highly irregular to have someone such as yourself here without all these things already in place. You've been with us too long, I can't allow you to simply walk away. Please sign the papers, join us."  
Of course he knew. They all ignored that part, but they were aware. "You do what you _have_ to, but I _can't_ do that."  
"I need your help, so I will allow you to remain with us until we return to Mordland. You have until then to change your mind."  
"Or _else_ what?" But he knew.  
"I think you know."

****

More gears had been shipped in, so while Alex was still placed on stage, Ofdensen wasn’t.  
For reasons that even he didn’t understand, Alex and been promoted to temporary head of security, despite his limbo status. It seemed that Ofdensen instinctively trusted him on some level, even with not knowing who he really was.  
Well, really had been. He didn’t even think of himself as Toki at all anymore, not even here, he’d became Alex in every way.  
And now, Alex was in charge.

It was strange to be in a commanding position, strange to even have to think about stuff like strategy. The gears accepted his leadership without question, on Ofdensen’s orders, but it still felt weird.  
But Alex had studied the tapes many times now, and even though he’d never found a pattern in just how the rioting spread, he did have a fair idea about where their security needed to be. There were key areas that the fans always broke through, if they had more people waiting in those zones...  
He had a full crew at his disposal, assigning them spots for the next show and staying back just offstage himself, always ready. 

Another show came and went, this one rather uneventful. Well a lot of people in the audience died, but that was just business as usual, no big deal.  
Well, no big deal now, he still remembered being driven half insane with need and bloodlust by the carnage during his last tour. When that head had rolled past him, dribbling blood along its way...  
Times had certainly changed, that was certain. _Everything_ had changed.  
One more show down, his time here was running out too fast.

****

Alex was making his rounds. Oh good, they were all in one room. Drinking around the coffee table, this was a lot easier than tracking them down individually. But then they noticed him.  
Nathan beckoned him over. "Hey! Come drink with us."  
Oh shit, he couldn’t risk that! What if he slipped and they saw through him? " _I'm_ supposed to be-"  
"Dude. You werk fer us, and we're ordering' ya ta cahm an' drink with us. So ya have ta."  
He could hardly refuse a direct order, not while posing as an employee. Reluctantly, he took a seat at the table beside Nathan, across from Skwisgaar. _Fuck_ , he’d missed this so damn much.

They seemed happy to have him, but sitting here with them again... It was such sweet torture.  
Pickles, reaching over, held out a bottle of vodka. "Here ya go, I hope yer naught a lightweight. There's no way in hell yer old ‘nuff to drink, but we don't care."  
Of course he was more than old enough, but he was glad they didn’t know. Alex took the bottle and drank. He couldn’t get very drunk or he might slip up, but his tolerance was indeed pretty high.  
Nathan elbowed him companionably, even that brought back memories. "We like, don't care if you talk funny. We won't make fun of you or anything. So, you know, don't worry about that."   
"You all _think_ I _talk_ funny?" Shit, he was trying really hard!  
"Yesh, but scho do I. It'sh cool."

They drank, Alex being careful to regulate his intake, pretending to swallow more than he actually did. This far from a feeding, alcohol hit him a lot harder than usual. He _really_ needed to kill someone soon, but there was only one stop left and he was determined to wait til the last one. The trip home would be rough, and he needed to wait as long as possible. Sure he could just kill another later, but he really felt that he should limit his body count while he was with them, to avoid suspicion.  
Skwisgaar was _so_ drunk, he was never normally this drunk. What the hell, Skwisgaar?!  
Pickles was as drunk as usual, but that was comforting instead of worrying.

Then Sy flipped a beer cap and managed to land it on Skwisgaar’s head. He didn’t even notice, but that started a game, they all started flipping the caps that littered the tabletop.  
Sy landed another on Skwisgaar, and Alex, deciding to join in, got one on Pickles.  
Murderface and Nathan tried hard, but just kept missing. This was kind of fun!  
Pickles was so drunk he just seemed confused by it all, looking drunkenly up at the ceiling like he blamed god.  
Nathan grinned at Alex. "You're cooler than the robot. Maybe you won't like, turn into one."  
Alex laughed, if only they knew...

****

Another show down, and the tour was finally done. That one had been strangely uneventful, leading Alex to believe that whatever curse of power it was that the five of them had together, he was different enough now that it was broken.  
The band members had increased their drinking, as they always did as the tour wore on. Of course Alex understood, he remembered it well. They would all drink all the way home and then crash, they did it every time.  
His job was to keep checking on them. Ofdensen surely knew he’d been drinking with them on occasion, but hadn’t said anything so it was probably okay.

After the show he’d briefly slipped away, he needed to find someone to kill. Alex had been surveying the audience from the stage. He knew what he wanted, a man, and the fatter the better. He’d spotted a couple likely candidates, and now he was seeing if they survived and were still here. The one dressed like Skwisgaar, that was the one he really wanted.   
Finally Alex spotted him again, it was a lot harder from ground level. He’d survived! And he clearly recognized him from seeing him on stage, that was good.  
They arranged to meet a little later, he had duties to attend to now.

Later, all caught up and after accounting for everyone else, he found Pickles and Sy together watching something on tv.  
Pickles, clearly completely wasted, waved at him."Aleeeex! Ya gatta drink with us, dude!"  
Sy lifted a beer, spilling some on himself in the process. "Yeah, join us. We're watching the alien lady eat seals. Or something. Man, I don't know anymore."   
“ _What_?”  
“Narrator chick,” Sy pointed helpfully at the tv with his bottle.  
Oh, that was the lady from Aliens? It did sound like her. Some nature thing... With a shrug (he’d already found the others), Alex joined them.

He felt somewhat comfortable around them, Pickles was just a friendly drunk, and Sy didn’t know him anyway. It was Skwisgaar he still avoided the most, if any of them were to see through to who he used to be, it would be him.  
Pickles handed over a beer, nearly dropping it in the process. He seemed to be slowly melting off the couch, slumped down in that boneless way he’d always had when he was fucked up.  
Sy was more or less still upright, but that seemed to be more luck than skill at this point.  
Alex took the offered beer and opened it, feeling _almost_ like a real part of things again. He was getting too comfortable here, that wasn’t good.

The game was simple, drink when something got eaten. Since Alex as only drinking beer, he wasn’t worried. They were wasted, if they’d been drinking only beer this whole time then they’d been watching far too long, but knowing Pickles, the game had started with rather unfair stakes.  
The drank for a while, watching nature do its brutal shit, as nature does. Nature is one brutal motherfucker.  
After a few more scenes, Sy simply passed out.  
Alex was a little worried, but they had gears (regular ordinary gears) for that, and somebody would take care of him.

Pickles looked at him with a disappointed sigh. "Well kid, you an' me. Let's see if we can make it through the next disc."  
"I _can't_ stay. I _have_ a date." He _needed_ this kill, needed it to survive the long ride home. He’d waited til the last minute on purpose, to buy as much time as possible afterwards.  
"Ya know we leave in like an hour, raight? Don't wanna lose ya." Pickles grabbed a bottle from the other side of his chair, and a couple glasses, Alex had guessed right, they _had_ started the game on something stronger than beer. He poured two, and handed one over.  
Alex downed it. It didn’t matter if he got drunk, it would burn off fast once he fed. "I _don't_ need much time."  
"Sahmtimes it's better thet way, no bullshit. Hey, ya still okie to be walkin' ‘round?"  
" _I'm_ good."

The man he’d picked was waiting where they’d agreed, that was good. He’d been very afraid that he wouldn’t show, and then he’d have no option but to miss the flight, he wouldn’t be safe enough to trust himself without a feeding first. He wasn’t even sure he could go that long if he tried, probably not.  
There was no time to be nice about it, poor guy. There was no time to feel sorry for him either, he was nothing but food whether he deserved to be or not.  
Alex stripped off his hoodie, always safer than risking getting blood on it, and slashed the man’s throat with his knife. Affixing his mouth to the spurting wound, Alex drank ad fast as he could, sucking hard at the man’s neck to get as much as possible. He was going to need every drop he could get.

Back onboard, Ofdensen was waiting for him, looking rather displeased. “Where were you?”  
“I had _something_ to _take_ care of.” Just killing another guy, gotta eat somehow, no big deal.  
The boss only glowered. “I’m assigning you to Skwisgaar duty, report to his room now.”  
 _Fuck_ , not Skwisgaar! He _couldn’t_ be alone with Skwisgaar! But he’d read the file, if Ofdensen thought Skwisgaar was likely to try something, now was indeed the time.  
And honestly, he probably could prevent that sort of thing better than anyone else.

He turned to go, but the manager wasn’t done yet. “Alex? You are to stop him, no matter what it takes. Do you understand me?”  
“Yes.” What did he mean, ‘no matter what?’ “What _do_ you think he’d _going_ to _try_?”  
“I don’t know. His room has been searched, but he’s crafty when he wants to be and we may have missed something. You read his file, you know my concerns. Just stay with him, no matter what, and stop him if he tries anything. He may not, if we’re lucky.”  
Resigned, anticipation mixed with dread, Alex headed to Skwisgaar’s room.

It was empty. Oh no, what if Skwisgaar tried something somewhere else?!  
But the manager had told him to be here, so he must have a reason for that. And now that Alex thought about it, it was unlikely that Skwisgaar would do something that drastic anywhere other than in the privacy of his own room. That’s just how he was, never showing feelings or anything in public.  
He was surprised that Ofdensen himself wasn’t handling this, but it was probably for the best.  
They off lifted into the air, it was set then, he was going back to Mordhaus. Too late to change his mind now.

Alex stared out the window, watching the ground drop away and using the reflection to keep watch behind him. Waiting.  
What if it was poison?! What if he took some kind of poison and then came back to his room to die? That seemed like something Skwisgaar might possibly do. What could he do then, if it was already too late?  
If there was such thing as Hell, any version of it, it involved waiting.  
What if Skwisgaar was already dying?

Finally Skwisgaar walked in, seeming quite disappointed to see him there, but otherwise still okay. "Whys am you in mine room?"  
He didn’t dare turn, being alone with him like this, but kept his eyes glued to Skwisgaar’s reflection, studying him, reassuring himself that nothing had happened yet. "Boss _told_ me to _stay_ here tonight."   
Behind him, he watched Skwisgaar sit on his bed, seemingly deep in thought.  
Alex waited, silent and watching. The air seemed oddly thick, an unseen tension hanging heavy over them. He missed everything that used to be _so_ much...

Then Skwisgaar stood and moved to his dresser, fishing around and pulling something out of the top drawer. Whatever it was it had been hidden, judging from the trouble he had finding it. "I has some advice for yous. Goes somewheres else, gets out, goes away. Dey ams goings to blames you, and dey will kills you if you stays."  
Still watching in the window, Alex was tensed and ready, but not letting it show. The part where what he was saying not even making sense wasn’t reassuring at all, and he couldn’t leave if he wanted to. The ground was far below them, the copter was sealed.  
The finality in Skwisgaar’s tone was painful.

Something was indeed about to happen, the manager had been right, and he would have to be very fast when it did. _Everything_ depended on it. Alex tried to play it cool, although he felt anything but. " _Blame_ me for what?"  
Instead of answering, Skwisgaar finally raised his hand from the drawer, revealing what it was he’d sought. A straight razor, light glinting off the shiny blade, which he raised quickly to his throat.  
 _Oh shit_! He couldn’t allow Skwisgaar to bleed, not even a little bit, even freshly fed that would probably be too much temptation for him to handle!

Alex turned and sprang in an instant, taking him down fast, knocking the razor from his hand in the process, and pinning him to the bed with his body. Oh fuck, even this contact was too much, his neck was _right there_...  
Releasing Skwisgaar’s wrists, Alex quickly pushed his upper body up and off. That was better, well a little bit better. It was really hard just being this close to him again, even after all this time. And he’d had so much control lately, what was it that made Skwisgaar so different from anyone else? "No."  
Skwisgaar was looking up at him very strangely, _too_ strangely. "Toki?"  
 _Oh shit._ All his fears came crashing down on him, but he still managed to shake his head no."Alex."  
With an intense stare, Skwisgaar pushed the hood back, reaching and pulling his hair free.

Alex looked down at him, unable to look away. It was too late anyway, he could tell. He knew that somehow, Skwisgaar was seeing Toki. But he wasn’t Toki anymore.  
Except in a way, he always would be.  
But when Skwisgaar pulled him down for a kiss, he obliged willingly, making sure to keep his teeth locked safely away. The feelings that hit surprised him, kissing wasn’t something he enjoyed, kissing anybody else felt _nothing_ like this. He never wanted to stop.  
Skwisgaar’s hands under his hoodie, stroking his back.  
This was pure torture.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Changes Parallel- chapter 15  
> Heavy parallels because Alex is in this chapter. This one is the closest of all these to the other, because they spend pretty much the whole damn chapter in Skwisgaar’s room together. I did find a good bit to add in, and you’re getting the other side of it all anyway, so it’s still quite different.  
> Warnings: Nothing worth mentioning, for a change (enjoy it while it lasts)

Kissing Skwisgaar was strange, so good, not at all like kissing all those guys he ate. It was _almost_ like what they used to do, those same unforgettable feelings. Alex couldn’t completely resist, he sucked that slick tongue hard into his mouth, encouraging him, but didn’t bite. Even without the blood, there was still something between them, something strong. Those long hands, roaming under his shirt...  
Alex rolled them so they faced each other on their sides, but didn’t back away.  
But then Skwisgaar suddenly pulled back, turned away, curling up and sobbing softly. Shit! What did he do wrong? A tentative pat on the shoulder was met with no response.  
With a sigh Alex sat up, pulled his hood back up, but kicked off his shoes and brought his feet up on the bed. It was going to be a long night.

He was pretty sure Skwisgaar had really seen through to him, the old him, something the rest of the band hadn’t managed to do. What would happen now? They were in the air, he couldn’t run if he tried and there was nowhere to hide that he wouldn’t be found.  
Alex didn’t want to hide, he wanted... well, things he couldn’t have. So he just sat there on the bed, looking down at Skwisgaar. Wanting to comfort him in some way, but knowing he really had nothing to offer, he couldn’t even promise to stay. Studying the way the light turned his hair to splayed gold, memorizing it.  
He didn’t know what to do.

Why had he ever thought this was a good idea, even coming to see them? And then staying with them?  
But if he hadn’t, would Skwisgaar still be breathing right now?  
Their employees were competent, surely they would have stopped him too. Except... they weren’t supposed to interfere with the band, no matter what. They would have stood down and let him do it, then called it in.  
 _That_ was why Ofdensen had sent him, because he wasn’t an official gear and therefore not bound by their code. It could have been no one else but the manager himself.

Still, why him and not Ofdensen?! It seemed like he would want to handle something this serious personally. Or maybe he’d hoped that Skwisgaar would see Alex as a friend, since he wore no suit or hood?  
Or... He couldn’t think of any other reasons.  
But what had _Skwisgaar_ seen? He had an intense need to know the answer to that. Alex had avoided being alone with him all this time, afraid of what might happen. But now, if the worst had already happened, what was there left to lose?  
He needed to know for sure. He didn’t have a plan, but he still needed to know.

After a while Skwisgaar turned to stare up at him, but it was somehow uncomfortable when he looked back, so Alex looked away, didn’t meet his eyes. "What do you see _when_ you _look_ at me?"  
"I knows what you looks like, mine brains ams jus sick. I can'ts be livings like dis anymores. And you can'ts watches me all de times!"  
"No I _can't_.” He had no idea how to deal with this situation, he didn’t even understand it! “But _why_ do you _want_ to do that?"  
"It ams de only way outs."  
How could he possibly convince him otherwise? He could only stay until they reached Mordhaus, what happened after that?

Alex was thinking hard, and not seeing a lot of options. "Skwisgaar. _Look_ at me. _Tell_ me what you see. _Tell_ me."  
After a minute, he looked. "Fines! I see _Toki_ , but he ams dead! I misses him so much I has gone crazy! I can'ts be taking dis shit no mores." He rolled, turning his back once more.  
"I'm _sorry_ , I _thought_...” This was probably a _huge_ mistake, but he stopped trying to speak clearly. “I thoughts you wouldn't sees me. Nobody else sees me anymore, don'ts really know why.” _How_ was Skwisgaar seeing through it?! What if the others did too now? He was probably completely screwed. “Fucks."  
Skwisgaar turned back and was just staring at him, his expression tired and very pained.

Well he’d come this far... "Skwisgaar, you’s not crazy."  
Instead of acknowledging that either way, Skwisgaar grabbed at his sleeve, tugging it. "Takes dis off?"  
"I gots nothing under it." As if Skwisgaar didn’t already know that, his hands had been everywhere.   
"I don'ts cares, jus does it." He briefly sat up and stripped off his own shirt.  
With a shrug, Alex pulled it over his head and tossed it on the bed beside him. He let Skwisgaar pull him down so that they lay together, marveling that this skin contact felt just amazing.

Skwisgaar looked into his eyes, but his gaze was overly bright and strange. "I ams going to pretends you really ams Toki, okays?"  
"Okays.” Maybe it was better if he thought it was all pretend? What did he know, he was hardly a picture of mental health himself. “What's you wants to do?"  
Instead of answering, Skwisgaar kissed him again. Alex could feel him licking, trying to stealthily find his teeth, then thrusting his tongue desperately into his mouth again. So that was it, he wanted proof. Alex knew he couldn’t give him the proof he sought. After so many kills, even with all his practice, if he bit now he wasn’t at all sure he could stop, Skwisgaar just had that effect ton him. But he could resist biting, that was the best he could do.  
What the hell were they even doing? Nothing could come of this.

That didn’t stop him though, not the kissing part.   
The fur of Skwisgaar’s blanket was soft against his bare skin, and long arms wrapped tight around him, holding him desperately close. Alex shifted without really thinking, as was his habit, to kissing and licking at Skwisgaar’s neck. Pressing his face into it, breathing his unique scent. Feeling the fast pulse beneath his lips...  
Skwisgaar whimpered in response and pressed tighter against him, making him realize that this was _way_ too dangerous, he had to stop. If he lost his head too much he’d bite, and that couldn’t happen. The temptation was very great.  
Alex went back to regular kissing, since he seemed to be handling that well enough.

Then Skwisgaar broke the kiss but kept holding him close. "When you ams a reals official hoods guy, brands an alls, maybe you will still comes sees me sometimes?"  
"I's not going to be a real hoods guy. And I's not gettings branded." No point in raising false hopes over something that could never be.  
Skwisgaar seemed to completely disregard that, and wrapped his arms tighter.  
Alex realized that he was stuck here for the night, even if he hadn’t already planned on staying. Been ordered to stay. That was okay, Skwisgaar (maybe, probably) recognizing him only made him even more paranoid about being around the others. And also, _fuck_ it was so nice to be held like this!  
Finally, a shift in breathing rhythms indicated that Skwisgaar had fallen asleep.

What were they doing? It felt so damn _nice_ to lie here in Skwisgaar’s arms like this.  
It was even awesome to kiss him, and he didn’t feel a thing anymore when he kissed anyone else, male or female. Well sometimes some things, but never _these_ feelings, this intense... joining. Okay that was a crappy word for it, but he couldn’t think of anything better.   
There really wasn’t a word for it, what had been or was even now between them.  
What did it all even mean?  
Something like finding a missing part that you didn’t even know was missing, in some fucked up way they completed each other, and truly always had.

Alex lay awake beside him a while longer, still thinking. Skwisgaar made him feel like _Toki_ again, that was likely a big part of the problem.  
More than anything, he wished he could go back to how it had all been before, the days before he decided to drink some mysterious crap like a dumb dildo and turned himself into _this_. But there was no way to go back. Everything was different now. _He_ was different now, and he’d changed a lot more since he’d been on his own.  
He had to keep fooling the others, he had to keep thinking of himself as Alex, that was his only hope.  
Confident that he’d wake if necessary, Alex happily slept in Skwisgaar’s arms.

****

Alex woke up early like he was used to doing, Skwisgaar still sleeping beside him. He’d let go and rolled over in his sleep though, so it wasn’t hard to ease off the bed and quietly out of the room.  
He was very worried now, but nobody he passed seemed to be seeing anything but Alex. It was likely his own damn feelings for Skwisgaar that had fucked him up there, and if he were truly honest, part of him had hoped he’d be seen.   
As long as nobody else saw, it would have to be okay.  
A passing gear told him that he was wanted in the manager’s office, so Alex headed there.

Ofdensen wanted a report on the previous night. Alex told that Skwisgaar had indeed tried to kill himself, and how, but left out the kissing part. The manager showed now surprise, that cold bastard. Why had he let him get to that point? His job was to take care of them, whatever they needed!  
“Well you were apparently successful in stopping him, so I’d like you to keep watching him for the next few nights.”  
Oh no, more time alone with Skwisgaar, this would be torture!  
Oh good, more time alone with Skwisgaar, where he could _almost_ be himself again.

Well he was already screwed there, as far as his cover went. Skwisgaar clearly doubted himself, but he wasn’t wrong. And the more time they spent together...  
Alex just _really_ hoped nobody else would see anything, if they all started seeing through him he didn’t know what he’d do.  
His bunk in the gear quarters wasn’t going to get any more use, at this rate, but if he could possibly stay with Skwisgaar all the way home, that was what he was going to do.  
If he could stay _after_ they got there... But that was impossible, it just couldn’t work.  
He’d just have to enjoy what he could, for as long as he could.

Alex worried that Skwisgaar might try something during the day while he was doing his other duties, but Ofdensen seemed to think the risk was only at night. If he was as sure as he seemed, there must be a reason for thinking that.  
He worried anyway. He hadn’t searched the room, hadn’t even thought to retrieve the razor from wherever it had landed (behind the bed somewhere?) before he’d left this morning.  
He _should_ have, he knew that, but it seemed the whole situation had messed up his ability to think clearly. He’d just been so damn _happy_ to sleep there with him, wake up beside him, that all the rest had just sort of slipped his mind.

Why was Skwisgaar like this? The only answer seemed...  
It seemed like he must have been in love with him. Well, with Toki. That was completely unbelievable, but no other explanation fit. If he’d known, would it have changed anything?  
And all that time, he’d thought it was just about wanting to be bitten. Clearly he’d misjudged the situation, he’d have to try not to do that again.  
But the way he felt, the way he’d missed him so much, did this mean he was in love with Skwisgaar?! Shit, maybe. Probably, at least in some way.  
What a mess everything had become!

He didn’t run into Skwisgaar anywhere, which bothered him quite a bit, but if anything bad had happened surely he would have heard, so he must be alright.  
Why hadn’t he searched the fucking room?!  
But surely someone else had, Ofdensen would have made sure of it.  
But they missed that damn razor when they’d searched before!  
Alex went about his assigned duties, all he could do was really hope that Skwisgaar was fine, and that nobody saw anyone but Alex when they looked at him.

He wandered through the levels of the copter, seeking out the band.  
Pickles, Sy, and Murderface were in the hot tub when he passed through there, drinking. Just relaxing drinking though, now that the tour was over. He knew the difference, he’d been right there with them in the past. Pickles had something with an umbrella, this was light drinking for him, and Murderface and Sy seemed to be sticking to plain old beer. They had a small cooler behind them.  
Pickles, in typical Pickles fashion, had tried to talk him into joining them. “Dude, git in here!”  
Alex shook his head. “I _have_ too much work to _do_.” 

They all made disappointed faces in his general direction.  
“Ya work too fecking much!” Pickles twisted and grabbed one of their beers, holding it up and wiggling it enticingly. “Git in here!”  
“No, _I’m_ busy.” It was tempting, but the last thing he needed to do right now was let his guard down at all around any of them, it would be too much of a risk.  
Murderface and Silas exchanged and glance and then also held out beers, copying Pickles.  
Alex grinned at the three beers being waved at him. “Still busy!” 

Shaking his head and smiling, he moved on before they could argue with him any more about it, feeling more confident now because they _definitely_ hadn’t seen anyone but Alex. So whatever is was he was doing still worked, it was just Skwisgaar.  
He was happy that they all seemed to be doing well, at least. Good for them.  
But where was Nathan? And where was Skwisgaar?  
He walked on, checking rooms as he passed them.

Alex found Nathan in the common room with all the windows, he seemed to be writing. Well that made sense, tours that were bloody tended to get him wired and he’d done this in the past sometimes. Inspired by all the carnage, or whatever.  
Nathan, scowling in that way he had when he got stuck on a word, noticed he had company. “Hey. What like, rhymes with beheaded?”  
Alex thought for a minute. “Um, _re_ headed?”  
“Is that even a word? I don’t think that’s a word. It’s pretty cool though, like you chop off someone’s head and then put it back. Or a different one, you could rehead them with somebody else’s head? Maybe...”  
He went back to scribbling, and Alex moved on.

The day passed, and Alex realized just how much he was looking forward to more time with Skwisgaar, alone. A slightly nervous anticipation that was almost similar to stalking a kill, except he knew he wouldn’t kill Skwisgaar. Is this what love felt like?  
He couldn’t deny that he enjoyed kissing him, but he didn’t want to fuck him, it wasn’t like that. He wasn’t really sure _what_ it was like, this was new territory.  
Yes of course he wanted to bite him, he wanted that very much, but he would resist, he would keep his teeth locked away. He’d gotten good at that, at least.  
He just hoped Skwisgaar wouldn’t decide to push for sex, because he didn’t want that but really couldn’t think how to nicely refuse.

He remembered, all too well he remembered, how it had been back then. Skwisgaar sliding into his lap, melting against him, seductively offering his tongue.  
There wasn’t even a word for the feelings they’d made together.   
But Alex remembered that he’d never gotten hard from it, and that Skwisgaar, pressed tight against him, hadn’t either. It _wasn’t_ sexual, at least not in the usual sense, but there was still no other word for it but orgasmic. Mental instead of physical, or brain instead of dick...  
It made him just want to hold on tight forever, never let him go.

Alex definitely wanted more kissing, and touching, and holding, as much as he could get.  
He didn’t even like kissing guys, usually disliked it even, it was just something he did for practice! He liked it with Skwisgaar though, a whole lot.  
But why had he ever felt a need to ever practice that in the first place? He’d never even thought about it, it was just something he’d felt he’d needed to do.  
He’d been practicing so he could kiss Skwisgaar, that’s what it all came down to.  
On some level he’d known he’d end up with them again, somehow, and he’d wanted to be ready.  
Whatever they had between them was still there, and still dangerous. For both of them.

Could they ever have ended up this way, if he’d never changed? If he’d just been plain old Toki, who could never do anything right in the eyes of the other guitarist?  
Probably not.  
But he _had_ changed, and whatever it was between them, whatever made Skwisgaar so damn different from anyone else, so irresistible...  
He didn’t really like the word ‘love’, he wasn’t going to use that word.  
He would take what he could get, he couldn’t resist if he tried. He’d restrain himself, but he couldn’t refuse the kisses, the physical contact.  
And he didn’t even want to try to.

****

Back in Skwisgaar’s room, Alex had gotten there first and was waiting.  
Like the previous night, he looked out the window, and watched the reflection behind him. The razor was gone, he’d checked first thing when he’d gotten there. Ofdensen must have sent someone to remove it, he’d expected as much. Hopefully tonight would be less dramatic.  
Skwisgaar strolled in and showed no surprise to see him there again.  
This time Alex turned to greet him, smiling. Skwisgaar smiled back, that was a good sign, then went over and put his guitar on its stand.

They moved to the bed together, just sitting on it for now. "Hows come dat sometimes you sounds like Toki and sometimes you talks... normals?"  
He’d probably been thinking about it all day, so Alex just shrugged and answered truthfully. "I can _talk_ without an accent if I really _try_ , but it's not easy. Besides, I's lazy. You don'ts mind, does you?"  
"I likes it, it makes it more easies to be pretendings dat you's really Toki."  
So he still didn’t really believe it. Was that good or bad? "You goings to try anything stupids tonight, or wills you behave?"  
"I behaves if you kisses me some mores..."

And so he did, very willingly.   
It was going to hurt so terribly much to leave again, he knew that already, but he had no choice. Alex worried though, he didn’t really give a fuck what it was going to do to his mental state, he was pretty much screwed no matter what happened in his life, but was this helping or hurting Skwisgaar? It seemed to be keeping him from being suicidal, which was good, but for how long?  
Some part of him knew he should probably put a stop to it, but he didn’t want to. He’d lost everything else, he couldn’t bear to give this up too.  
Not just yet.  
Not until he had to.

Skwisgaar wanted him to take his hoodie off again, wanting to touch his skin. He took his own shirt off as well.  
They lay together, Alex burrowing into Skwisgaar’s arms as they closed around him, feeling those strong fingers stroke his back.  
He touched back very willingly, caressing the pale skin with his hands and his mouth, licking but not biting, starved for this connection he hadn’t felt anywhere else and had so dreadfully missed. He avoided the neck, too tempting, but there was a lot of other skin he could cover.  
Holding each other close, the contact both burning and comforting.

****

They spent most of their time on Skwisgaar’s bed now.   
Skwisgaar left the room only briefly when he needed to eat, Alex just waited for him to return. Always touching when they were together, whether sitting or lying entwined, as much as possible. It was like a drug, or a sickness, and it couldn’t last. No matter how much they wanted it to, it couldn’t last.  
All too soon, the clock would run down and they would again be separated.  
It wasn’t fair!

Alex had thought about it, somehow managing to reveal himself to the others and staying. He wasn’t even sure he could make them see Toki anymore, but even if he could, it wouldn’t work.  
To be what, a replaced guy living with his old band? Silas was Dethklok now, he couldn’t kick him out. He _wouldn’t._  
There was no place left for him, with them.  
What was he going to do, pretend to be just a gear? He wasn’t a fucking gear, couldn’t bear to be.  
But he wasn’t Dethklok anymore either.

And besides, he needed to kill.  
Of course, _if_ he could convince them that he was Toki, and _if_ they were willing to let him come home, then what? Back to drinking cold dead blood from the fridge? He knew that he couldn’t possibly stand that, not after living on fresh for so long.  
Even if he tried, no matter how hard he tried, Alex knew that he’d end up killing anyway. That was who he was now, what he did.  
He _couldn’t_ stay, it was just impossible. And he needed to tell Skwisgaar that before whatever fucking delusions he had got any deeper, try to make him understand.

Time was running out. Although he was sure that Skwisgaar, on some level, knew, Alex still felt he had to say it. "I can'ts stay with you."  
"So how muches longer will you?" There was no surprise in his voice, yes, he knew.  
"Until you gets home, then I has to go. I has to keep movings, can'ts stay in one place."  
"Gives me one good reasons."  
He decided to tell the truth. "I can'ts let the bodies piles up in any one place." And they would. Even if he only killed Klokateers and didn’t hunt off the grounds, bodies were bodies. There was no way around that.

Instead of being alarmed, as he probably should have been, as _anyone_ should have been, Skwisgaar seemed oddly unbothered by this information. "Yous what den, de cereal killers?"  
"Yes."  
"Ja? How manies?" He still only looked curious, not at all scared.   
Well, Dethklok in general did have quite a history of brutality, though most of it was generally associated with Nathan or Murderface. Skwisgaar was a pretty brutal guy too, sometimes he forgot that.  
His body count? At this point, he couldn’t even guess. "I never keeps count. One hundreds, two hundreds... it doesn'ts matter."

"Alex?"  
"Why's you still callings me that?" He just wanted to be able to be himself again, his old self, just for a little bit!  
"Because I ams de crazy, and you ams nots really Toki. I ams still sanes enough to knows dat much, just barelys." He pulled away and stood.  
"Skwisgaar...” As much as he desperately wished otherwise, he knew it was probably better this way. “Fuck it, calls me whatever you wants."  
"I has de proofs dat you ams not really Toki.” Skwisgaar began pacing the floor in an agitated manner. “You kisses me. Toki can'ts do de kissings. I knows, I tries it. You can'ts be explaining dat one, cans you? And Toki has scars, you don'ts."

Alex leaned back on his elbows, seeming relaxed but ready, watching him. Skwisgaar was really working himself up over this, and he didn’t know where it all was going. But what could he really do? They were two days from home now, and soon he would have to leave.  
He watched him, transfixed, marveling that you could miss someone so damn much while you were still with them.  
Everything, even coming to a Dethklok show, had probably been a huge mistake. But this far in, there was nothing he could do but let it play out.  
Skwisgaar was still pacing, he seemed to have sped up even.  
Back and forth, back and forth, making the small room seem even smaller.

"You's not going to even tries to answer dat? Comes on Alex, says sometings. Makes it up."  
"Fines. I practices, okays? I learns how to kiss. And the scars...” He hadn’t actually been aware that they were gone, that they even _could_ have gone. He just shrugged. “They heals, I guess. Don'ts really know."  
"And whats about de special teeths? If you ams really Toki, shows me de teeths. I kisses you, I knows dat dey ams not dere."  
Alex grabbed him as he went past again, pulling him down to sit beside him. "Even if I proves it to you, I still has to leave." Was he really even considering this?! He had to be fucking crazy.  
Well at this point, that was probably a given.

"I still probablies kill myselfs later anyways, go finds Toki." He said it like it was the easiest thing in the world.  
" _No_.” This was a terrible idea, he was already hungry and this was _Skwisgaar_ , but he was going to do it anyway and hope like hell that he has as much control as he thought he did, that he could just take a small taste and not jump the man for more. “Gives me your finger."  
"Whys?"   
"Just gives me your finger before I changes my fuckings mind."  
Skwisgaar held out a hand, and Alex nipped him, hardly more than a pin prick. _Nobody else felt like this._ Just a little taste, but oh how he wanted so very much more! But he managed to restrain himself and stop, somehow.  
“ _Toki_.” Well, he looked convinced now, that was for sure.

Skwisgaar tried to push the finger back into his mouth, wanting more, but Alex stopped him, pulling his arm down. "That's enough. I's too used to killing to plays these games anymore."  
"So you ams really killings people? How oftens?"  
Alex just held him tightly, wanting him close for as long as possible. "There was more in the beginnings, but abouts every three days now, is average. If I gets a fat one I can makes it a week, especially if I can gets milk too."  
"But... you ams de gays now?"   
Alex laughed, not at all surprised he’d assumed that, even knowing now that he was Toki. "Noes, I just don'ts like killings goils. They's just food, do you cares if your steak was a boy cow or a goil cow? But it still bothers me, don'ts know whys."

"Pfft, I ams not caring what de cow was, but I ams not goings on dates wit it first eithers. You was kissings dem?"  
Alex didn’t really see why it mattered. "I needed the practices. And I was goings to kills them anyways, so if I messes up and kills them early, no big deals. I gots real goods control of my teeth nows though."  
"Buts you has de sexes wit dem?"  
"Noes. I lets dem think I woulds, but I nevers did." That was the main way he lured them, he’d gotten somewhat good at it.  
"You kisses me."   
"That's differents. You _know_ s me. You's the only person left who does."

Skwisgaar had clearly been thinking. "Why's you looks differents? To everybodies else?"  
He wished he knew the answer to that, he’d feel a whole lot better. "I don'ts know. I knows what Alex looks like because people has told me, but when I looks in the mirror, I just sees me. You's the only one who can sees through it, I wonder whys?"  
"Hows you finds out?"  
"When I first leaves, I hopes nobody would recognizes me. But it seemed likes nobody did, so I stops hidings. This goil in a bar says somethings, so I asks her to tells me what I looks like. She probably thinks I's crazy, but she tells me. And then later, there was this artist guy who wanteds to draws me. I lets him before I kills him, and he dids a real goods job. So I knows what they sees."  
"Why Alex?"  
"Lots of reasons. Mostlies it just seemed like a goods name." He didn’t feel like explaining his strange logic, it didn’t really matter anyway.

"Ams you goings to stay here all nights with me?" Skwisgaar wrapped his arms tighter.  
He’s stayed every night, but usually left briefly to check in with the manager before Skwisgaar woke in the mornings, so maybe he didn’t realize how long he’d actually been with him? Easier to agree than explain. "If you wants me to, I stays. Until we gets home."  
"How's you eat nows, when we ams on the copter?"  
It had only been three days, there were two left but he knew he could handle that. "I'm not, but I's okays. He was fats, I can makes it." He was used to usually killing much more frequently, but knewthat he could deal, and still be safe enough.

Skwisgaar looked half thoughtful, half seductive. "You knows... if you ams wantings..."  
"Noes.” There was no way he could even possibly consider that, _especially_ not after what happened last time. “You's not food. Don'ts worry, I's not goings to hurt you." He kissed him on the forehead, holding him tighter.  
"I knows dat." But he was pouting, wanting it, wanting to get his way.  
Alex just petted him. "It was differents back then. If I'd stayed, I woulds have killeds you, I wouldn'ts have been ables to stops myself."  
"Buts you won't nows..."  
"Noes. But nows it's too lates." Too late by _far_.

Again he reconsidered, he couldn’t help it, about maybe trying to convince the others who he really was, move back home with them. The thought of being all alone again was just so hard! He wanted to stay with Skwisgaar!  
But even if he could, then what? He kept reminding himself that Sy was the rhythm guitarist of Dethklok now, there was no place for him. He’d given all that up when he’d left home, left them.  
And he knew that no matter how hard he tried to resist, he’d kill, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. Not them, not Dethklok, but he would definitely kill. He would be nothing but a murderer living in his old home. That was no life.

It wasn’t even that he had a problem with the idea of killing Klokateers, it was _how little_ problem he had with it. Oops, another one asleeps in some bloods...  
Except that wouldn’t be accurate, because the blood would be in him instead.  
And yes he would kill gears, he had no doubts at all about that, because why risk going out to hunt when there was plenty of food walking around all around him?  
That wasn’t okay. They belonged to the band, that would be stealing, or something. It wouldn’t be tolerated.  
Just not an option.

Skwisgaar squeezed him, burying his face against Alex’s neck, seeming small and vulnerable for all his size. "One more nights and den we ams home. You's really goings to be leavings?"  
"I don'ts have a choice." And really, he didn’t.  
"Takes me wit yous?"  
"That's impossible.” He refused to even consider it. Destroy Dethklok, and essentially make Skwisgaar a felon by association? No, he wouldn’t drag him down to that. “You belongs here and I don'ts, not anymores."  
Skwisgaar released him but didn’t break contact, just shifted around until he could drag his guitar up and play it in the manner he did when stressed.

****

Alex was sitting on the bed, shirtless as usual, in Skwisgaar’s room, watching Skwisgaar, who was using his lap for a pillow, play guitar. He toyed with the long hair splayed across his legs, petting it and twirling long strands around his fingers. They were both feeling their impeding separation, and spending every possible second together.  
Skwisgaar was even getting his meals in his room, not wanting to leave. Alex of course didn’t bother with meals, but he was neglecting the other duties he’d been given, and didn’t care.  
Their time was nearly up, fuck anything else.

There was a knock at the door, and then the manager walked in. He looked quite disapproving. "Alex, I didn't mean you had to stay with him all the time, I'd be happy to reassign you somewhere else."  
Skwisgaar tossed his guitar aside, sitting up and wrapping his arms around Alex. "Noes, he doesn't has to be listening to yous! Goes away!"  
"Skwisgaar, I'm his boss."  
"Noes you ams not!"  
Alex just waited, it didn’t seem that Ofdensen was seeing Toki, that was good, but he stayed quiet. Skwisgaar was the one with the top authority here, after all.

They stared at each other across the room. Alex kept his expression neutral, but put an arm around Skwisgaar in return.  
Ofdensen clearly understood the situation. Well actually he didn’t understand at all, but he clearly thought he did. Skwisgaar and Alex.  
Skwisgaar was still staring at him defiantly, very stubborn when he wanted his way, his body angled protectively in front of Alex.  
Skwisgaar protecting _him_ , that was kind of ironic.

The manager sighed, and addressed him again. "Alex, I still want you to stay with us. We can arrange a private branding if you prefer."  
"No." He’d thought about it and rethought about it, posing as a real gear to live with them, and completely ruled it out. It just couldn’t work.  
Ofdensen looked somewhat resigned, for now. "Well, please at least think about it. Skwisgaar, try to talk him into it, would you? I can see you're fond of him." Deciding not to agitate the clearly unstable guitarist any further, he left the room.  
Skwisgaar immediately got up and locked the door, wanting no further interruptions. Rejoining Alex on the bed, he puled him down to snuggle tightly, clinging like his life depended on it.

After a bit, he shifted enough to look Alex in the face. "Toki? Coulds dey even brands you? I don't wants dem to, I ams just askings."  
"Noes, it wouldn'ts take, I heals really fasts now. Buts... _I was Dethklok_ , I can'ts be just a hoods guy nows, or the manager's assistant." He didn’t even bother to explain his intense need to kill, Skwisgaar would understand the rest better.  
"You ams still Dethklok."  
"Noes, I's nobody anymores." That’s who Alex really was after all, nobody. Nobody at all, just a shadow guy, a murderer, a ghost of who he had once been.

Alex tried to pull him back closer, but Skwisgaar wasn’t done yet. He had that determined look he got when he wanted to get his way. "I will tells dem. I will tells dem all and dey will makes you stays."  
"They'd never believes you. Even you didn't believe me, and you can see me. They can'ts."  
"Den plays for dem. Plays mine parts, nobody else can does dat. Dat's proofs."  
"Skwisgaar, I hasn'ts played in a year. I don'ts thinks I can even does them anymore." He was sure he could, talent like that doesn’t just go away, but he refused to try. Too painful.  
"Tries. Plays for me? I wants to hear, even if you ams no goods anymore. I don'ts care."  
"Noes. I don't play anymores." Guitar belonged to another life, the one he’d left behind.

This was then end, they would be home in the morning and it would all be over.  
A quiet desperation, a prelude to mourning what wasn’t yet lost. They kissed, stroked, and petted, and mostly just clung to each other, holding tight. Time passing too fast now, slipping away.  
Skwisgaar eventually dozed off, somewhere in the early morning hours, but Alex still lay awake. He was about to lose everything all over again! He wanted to savor every second he had left, knowing that no matter how many he got, there would never be enough of them.  
Sleep wasn’t that important.

****

They were landing. Alex could see the familiar shapes of home beyond the windows, oh how he wished he could stay! But his time was up.  
Ofdensen was back, knocking forcefully until Skwisgaar unlocked the door for him. "Well Alex, last chance. Are you sure you won't sign the papers and be branded?"  
"No." It just wasn’t possible.  
"Well then, it's out of my hands. I assume we understand each other?"  
Alex just nodded, he’d never had any doubts about that part. The manager left.  
Skwisgaar turned to him, clearly upset again. "What ams he meanings by dat?"  
"That he's goings to set the snipers on me.” It sucked, but that was how it worked. “This is Dethklok, there is no halfways. We owns them completely, or they's killed, and nobody can ever leaves." 

Skwisgaar latched onto him again, holding tightly. "Can guns evens still kills yous?"  
"If they gets my heart or my heads, yes. Otherwise, probablies not. But they's not goings to hit me, I can gets through." At least he hoped so. He knew where all the guard towers were, that was to his advantage. Either way, he didn’t want Skwisgaar worrying about him.  
"I ams not wantings you to be leavings. Please stays?" He squeezed tighter.  
A few more moments probably wouldn’t make any difference. Alex squeezed him back pressing his face into Skwisgaar’s neck, inhaling his scent. Funny, he wasn’t at all worried he’d bite now. He just wanted to sear everything he could into his brain.

But he couldn’t afford to put it off any longer. Alex unwound himself from those long arms, pulling away and standing, the sand was all gone, the clock had run out. "I'll comes back and visits you somedays." It was a promise he hoped he’d be able to keep.  
"Does you promises?"  
"Ja.” He grabbed his hoodie and pulled it back on. “I need to goes now, befores they's expecting it." That was his only real chance, the manager was too good at his job.  
"Wills you...” Alex knew what he was going to ask, but it was like a punch in the gut when he did. “Wills you bites me? Likes you uses to?"  
"I don'ts dare. Goodbyes Skwisgaar." He gave him one last kiss, deep and lingering, then left the room.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Changes Parallel- chapter 16, part 1  
> Alex flees to Europe, and comes up with a new plan.  
> Because I did a 3 year jump in that chapter, I had to break this one in two due to length.  
> Part of this one was written several years ago, but I realized there was no way to keep it spoiler-free, so I quit.  
> Information on vampire varieties in this part were taken from various sources, but I did try to only pick ones he could passably be mistaken for. Since there is _so_ much variation in the legends, some of these only fit on certain sites, and completely don’t on others. Kinda made my own out of assorted legends, I guess.  
>  No clue how to the accents here so I didn’t even try, just do them in your head however you feel is best. Sahrry.  
> Warnings: murder, porn (just involving others), dubcon

His escape started out well enough, he just walked out the gear entrance after the copter was shut down. Of course they all knew him and let him pass.  
The alarm would sound at any minute. Alex strolled as casually as possible past the employees, but as soon as he was out of immediate sight, he ran.  
And just in time, he heard the alert siren go off as he sprinted away, automatically zig-zagging in an attempt to elude the snipers. Any second now, the gunfire would start, and he really _didn’t_ know if he could get through it.

He was oddly reminded of his last escape from Mordland, running away again, but this time they’d started looking for him fast. Ofdensen had alerted them, as he’d had no doubts he would, the man had no intention of letting him get out alive. And they would do their best to snipe hm off.  
He’d lied to Skwisgaar a little, not wanting hm to worry, but he was pretty sure they could indeed kill him if they got a lucky shot, or a lot of shots. And that seemed likely, Klokateers weren’t really known for conserving bullets. This far from a feeding, his ability to heal would probably be too poor to save him.  
And now, bullets zinged all around him as he ran.

Racing across the grounds, trying to keep to a random pattern that would be impossible to predict. Trying to dodge close to trees and brush when he could, for the scant cover they offered.  
He didn’t know if the tugs on his clothes that he was feeling were bullets or snagging branches, but so far no pain.  
He was near the edge now, if only he could get into the woods on the other side, he’d be safe. They wouldn’t pursue him, at least the snipers wouldn’t. He fully expected a team to be sent after him if he got through, but there would be a slight delay before they were dispatched.  
Still dogging and running as fast as he could, he made somehow it out.

Alex stopped outside the Mordland grounds, that had been _way_ too close. Inspecting his hoodie, he found bullet holes in a couple places, but amazingly, none had touched him. The one through the hood was the most worrisome.  
As hard as it had been to leave, it would have been even harder to stay. He needed to get far away, out of the country if at all possible, far enough away he couldn’t easily just go back. Skwisgaar... _fuck_....  
He _had_ to stay away, for both of them. 

Once he thought he was a safe distance away, he started hitchhiking. A trucker stopped for him, and Alex climbed in. With these types, it was a fifty/fifty chance of a good samaritan or somebody wanting to trade a ride for sexual favors. He was kind of hoping for the latter, wanting some sort of reason, but he’d kill him either way. It had been too long.  
"Hey kid, where ya headed?"  
"Airport." He’d really did want to try to leave the country, needed to, _if_ possible, or he knew that he’d just be too tempted to stay away. And _that_ wouldn’t end well.  
The truck pulled back on the road.

This guy didn't even ask more questions, but that was okay. That just gave him less things to lie about, since he wouldn’t have bothered with the truth anyway. Alex only half listened as the man rambled about his cheating girlfriend, a dog he’d had as a kid, and for some reason, about why he considered burritos better than tacos. He actually had a pretty good reason for the burritos, less messy to eat in the truck, but why the fuck was he talking about it? Maybe he’d just been on the road way too long this time. Or had gotten some bad tacos?  
The miles slid by, and Alex ignored the man and semi-napped against his door, resting but still more than alert enough to be aware of his surroundings.

Alex sat up straighter when they pulled into a darkened rest area, it was pretty deserted. There was no innocent reason for them to be stopping here.  
The man set the brake and turned to him. "Since I'm being all nice and helping you out, what do ya say you return the favor?"  
"You wants me to fucks you?" Well it looked like his lucky day after all, guilt-wise, anyone who demanded sex from passengers was at least on the shady side. Since he was trying to pretend to care who he killed again, at least for now, that was better. Failed superhero and all that bullshit... Pfft, as Skwisgaar would say.  
The man just grinned and climbed into the back. Alex followed.

Acting nervous, it was good to get back in practice, Alex took off his clothes slowly, placing them on the front seat. The man didn't see him slip his knife from his pocket as he did so. As much as he wished he could bite, it had been _so_ long, it was best to stick to cutting.  
The man was grinning, a good looking kid like this and he wasn't even going to argue? "Come here." He pulled him in for a kiss.  
Alex kissed him back, not caring at all for the taste of his mouth. So different from Skwisgaar...  
Fuck, he really missed him so much already, and he’d just left.

The man grinned until Alex slit his throat, then he just looked startled. Quickly pressing his mouth to the wound he’d made, Alex drank deeply. He’d _needed_ this. The man died before he even fully realized what was happening to him.  
Afterwards, Alex cleaned off what little blood had gotten on him and redressed, taking the cash from the guy’s wallet and leaving the truck. He couldn't catch another ride until he was far away, someone might make the connection.  
He walked, staying off the shoulder and retreating into the brush when a car approached, staying out of sight. Ofdensen would of course know he’d gotten away, and Alex wasn’t sure how wide the net was. Even this far away, better to be extra careful. He wouldn’t recognize an unhooded gear, and they were surely searching for him.

He stole another hoodie from a backyard along they way, somebody would probably notice the bullet holes in the one he wore, and the red just stood out too much. As much as he badly wanted to keep it (it still smelled of Skwisgaar!) he had to get rid of it.  
Because it could point his direction if found, and because it seemed fitting, Alex folded it carefully and buried it in a wooded area. Laying another part of his past to rest, again.  
The next morning, he caught another ride, this time with an old lady. She seemed nice, and talked about how her grandkids didn’t visit often enough. 

She dropped him off at the airport about an hour later, and even gave him a cookie. He didn't really want it, but took it just to be polite. It was oatmeal raisin, maybe the grandkids didn’t visit because she tried to make healthy cookies instead of tastier ones?  
Inside, he headed for the international arrival area to find someone to rob. He needed a passport and a credit card.   
A likely looking man headed his way, and Alex turned to follow him as he passed. A little bump and some quick fingers and he had his prize.

Ducking into a thankfully empty bathroom, he examined his catch. Yes, he had everything he needed, even a passport. The thought of sing someone else's ID made him very nervous, but he had to try, they’d never let him on a plane without any ID at all.  
Could he look like anybody at all, or was he limited to Alex?   
And Alex wasn’t really anybody anyway, just like he’d told Skwisgaar, nobody at all. _Could_ he even copy a real person? How?  
Maybe he really was doing that tv vampire eye thing after all, if he could make people see him as somebody else? Except that’s not what _they_ did with it...

That might actually be exactly what he was doing though, now that he thought about it. It made sense in a way, but was completely unbelievable in a lot of other ways.  
There was no way to be sure, he was going to have to just walk up to the ticket counter and hope like hell that he looked like this guy on the passport.  
If he didn’t, well then he’d just have to run.  
But maybe if he believed in it hard enough, _really wished_ like back at first when he’d hoped not to be recognized, they would think he was really this guy?

He really didn’t understand how it worked, in the mirror, he still saw only himself, that’s all he ever saw. Why didn’t he see what other people saw? It was never very reassuring, especially not in this situation. The man in the photo had dark hair, brown eyes, and a goatee. If he failed, he was going to fail _spectacularly_.   
Hood up, hopefully looking like the man, Alex went to check the departures. The next one out of the country was a flight to France, leaving in an hour. Perfect.  
There was nothing more he could do, and no time to stall, if he wanted on that flight then he needed to buy his ticket _now_.

So incredibly nervous but trying hard to hide it, to play confident, Alex approached the counter.  
The somewhat bored looking lady there merely took his documents, glanced over them, and entered his chosen destination.  
That was it?! It worked, he was in?  
It was hard to believe that it could really be this easy.  
Now all he had to do was wait. He knew he wouldn't stop worrying until he was actually in the air. The security checkpoint was easy, since he had no baggage. They did take his knife though, he’d forgotten to get rid of it first. Oh well.

When his flight was called, he boarded as early as he could, happy to have randomly gotten a window seat. After watching the ground drop away beneath them as the plane rose, he promptly went to sleep, hoping they'd just leave him alone and not bother him until they landed. He was very tired, he hadn’t really slept in a couple days.  
No suck luck, a stewardess woke him some time later, somewhere above a blank expanse of ocean, asking if he wanted a meal. He didn't, the food didn't even smell good.  
He went back to sleep and woke again, very well rested, as they landed.

****

Nervous again, he somehow made it through customs with no problems.  
So he still looked like that guy? Was he going to keep looking like him forever? He must have kept it up even while he slept, surely the other people on the plane would have noticed if he’d randomly turned into someone else in midair.  
Maybe it somehow lasted as long as he needed it to?  
Well he didn’t need it anymore, so was he back to looking like Alex? Hopefully not like Toki, with a tour just ended that wasn’t a face that anybody needed to see. Wait, all he had to do was want to be Alex again, right? Hopefully?

Now he was in France. Unfortunately he didn't know the language, but surely people knew some English. He needed a bar, to watch the news and hopefully the Minute, and to find some place to stay.  
Dropping the ID and cards he'd been using in a trash can but keeping what little cash there had been (leaving a paper trail was always bad), he started walking. It was early evening, there should be enough time to find some places.  
Fortunately for him, this airport was close to what some would call a bad part of town. He always felt more at home in the bad parts.

Alex walked, studying the bars that he passed, looking for one that would suit his needs. He’d find a room eventually, he was going to explore for a while first, get a feel for the area.   
The bar needed to have a tv of course, and he liked them to be at least partly crowded, easier to blend in and go unnoticed.  
This one looked good, so he went in.  
He was instantly distracted, The Dethklok minute was on, replaying from an earlier American broadcast. It was just starting. He moved closer so he could hear.

_"...returned from their tour yesterday, and are relaxing in their home. We'll have to wait for them to get back up to their usual hijinks, it shouldn't take long! Meanwhile, who is the mystery man the seems to be working security? Rumor says that he is the secret son of Dethklok's manager, Charles Ofdensen. No confirmation has..."_

They had footage of him! How was that even possible?! Alex quit listening. If they were talking about Ofdensen, there would be no report on the others. He was still worried about Skwisgaar, about what he might do. The others had never really seen him as anything but an employee, but he missed them too. Well, Pickles and Sy had been friendly, but Nathan and Murderface had treated him like he was just the hired help. Well, he had been.  
But Skwisgaar... If there had been any way to stay... No, it never could have worked.  
 _Stop thinking about that._

But seeing himself on tv had been shocking.   
Of course he’d watched concert security tapes, that had been part of his job, but unlike this one, those were shot from behind the band, facing the audience.   
Sure he had seen himself in them, but from the back and only with his hood up.   
Sure he had turned at some point when fighting, he must have, but once the trouble had started he’d only paid attention to the audience activity on the tapes so he’d been unaware of his own face. Well, Alex’s face.

He knew that person was him, but it wasn’t _him_. But, it was. Even with his hood up and standing in the shadows, he could see that face was not his own familiar one, but like the one from the drawing he’d burned.  
Alex knew that he could make other people see someone else when they looked at him, but he’d never even imagined that a camera would see that too! Somehow, it had.  
But if a camera could show him what others saw, maybe he could learn to do it better, or different? How much control did he even have?  
He would have to find out.

****

The phone he’d stolen, stealthily picked from a purse as the lady walked on oblivious, was the kind where you could turn the view screen to see what you were filming. An older phone, but at least that function still worked. He had no intention of actually using it as a phone, so he didn’t really care about the rest.   
He took it back to the room he’d rented, standing shirtless in front of the mirror, holding it up and seeing himself in it, and seeing Alex in the small screen he held. _Finally_ seeing Alex clearly with his own eyes, face to face. He leaned in to take a closer look.

This seemed to have become his default mode, somehow, Alex’s face.  
He studied it, himself, his features, that artist back then had done a really good job. It was still really weird. Turning, leaning close to the mirror, he looked at his back in the small screen. Alex had no scars.  
Remembering Skwisgaar’s insistence that they were gone, he twisted his head around to look with his eyes. Yes, even as Toki they’d disappeared! Good, they belonged to another life and another time.  
It was faintly reassuring that he was somehow creating the perfect disguise with just his mind.

But the real question was, could he be anyone at all? He’d apparently been that guy in the passport photo, so were there even any limits?  
What did he have to practice with? Looking around, here was an old magazine someone had left in a drawer, it had celebrities in it. Of course his first thought had been to make himself into Skwisgaar, but that would just be too painful. If he was successful, he couldn’t handle _that_ face looking back at him right now.  
There was an old (or new at the time, but old now) photo of Brad Pitt in Legends of the Fall, sure what the hell. Alex concentrated, seeing the same old Toki in the mirror, but when he checked the phone screen, _holy shit he was Brad Pitt!_

Well, sort of. The face, yes, but the hair was wrong. The color changed, but that was all, it was still just as long and straight as ever. So his hair was a limiting factor, that was good to be aware of, he would need to hide if he did a short haired person. His body seemed unchanged as well, but back then Brad had a similar build so it was hard to be sure.  
Well there was an easy way to test that one, Alex flipped the page to a chick he knew was short, and who had big tits. _Really_ hoping he didn’t get stuck that way, Alex concentrated again.

And on the small screen... Well that was creepy as fuck. It worked... and it didn’t. The face indeed looked like the actress, and his hair was dark now, but he retained his height and build. There seemed to be a faint illusion of titis, but that was all. So that was it then, he could only really copy people who were a passably close match to him physically.  
Which meant he couldn’t be Skwisgaar anyway, not an accurate one, even if he wanted to.  
This would make it much easier to travel around though, he was now confident that as long as he chose wisely, he could steal ID’s as necessary. He didn’t even need to kill for them.

****

It was the name of the bar that caught his attention, there was a big red neon sign over the door that simply read ‘Les Vampires.’ There were vampires here?! And they even got their own club?! He’d learned that rushing into things was never a great idea, so Alex sat back and watched the place.  
Around dusk, they started showing up. Vampires! Mostly dressed in black, but several had some red mixed in. A few other colors too, but black was dominant by far. Most also had black hair, probably dyed, and an assortment of strange eye colors.  
And even at this distance, Alex could see their teeth gleam under the streetlights!  
He got up and moved closer, hardly daring to believe his luck.

But on closer inspection, they were just people. Only people, wearing costumes. Not real vampires. Disappointed but still somewhat intrigued, Alex backed off again, ducking into an alley to think.  
What if he made his teeth show, and went among them for the night, just for fun? Everyone would assume it was a costume!  
But looking down at his current outfit, a forest green hoodie and jeans, there was no way he’d pass as one of them. Especially not with Alex’s blond hair, which he’d finally seen with his own eyes.  
More and more people entered the club, it was popular!

Then he remembered that he could look however he wanted. Black hair? Done. Weird eyes? How about red, that seemed a popular choice. Clothes? Well his abilities didn’t extend to his clothing, but he’d seen a number of men going in shirtless. If the rest was good enough, his jeans would probably be ignored. Alex pulled off the hoodie, stashing it in the branches of a small tree that grew out of the sidewalk and hoping he could retrieve it later, brought out the teeth, and went to the door.  
There was a cover charge! That was okay though, he still had some cash.  
Inside, it was all strobe lights, black hair, and so many bodies, delightful chaos.

People were everywhere, way more than he’d seen go in, so there must be another entrance. The lighting was a mix of red and blue bulbs, and scattered strobe lights, the only other illumination being right over the bars. The effect made everything seem floaty and surreal.  
The people, light-painted part blue part red, and revealed in the strobe’s flashes. Fake teeth gleamed everywhere, some good, some completely terrible. Eyes of all colors, some even completely white. Chicks with lips painted the color of blood, wet and shiny.

He walked through them, getting some appreciative looks. This was pretty cool! But then he smelled the blood.  
Turning, focused on the scent, Alex saw a man and woman in the middle of what might have been a dance floor in another life. The man has a shiny ring, it looked sharp. He was grazing her shoulder with it, just tiny cuts, and licking off the blood that welled.  
Glancing around in wonder to take in other people’s reactions, Alex noticed a large number of similar rings in the crowd. This was a thing here then? Cut people and drink their blood? Could _anybody_ do that?

He turned his attention back to the couple, she’d dropped to her knees and was unzipping his tight leather pants. The watchers oohed and cheered them on as she pulled out his erect cock and wrapped her blood red lips around it.  
Holy fuck, sex _and_ blood?! Was this heaven?! Alex watched raptly, envying them both.  
She took her own ring and nicked the head of his cock. Licking the blood and then sucking some more.  
Someone else, another guy, stepped up and unsnapped her top, exposing her tits. He cut her nipple with is ring, sucking on it as she moaned passionately around the cock in her mouth.

All around him, other people started doing things as well. Some only nicked necks and shoulders, some stripped partially or completely and seemed intent on having some sort of blood drinking orgy.  
Alex stood in the middle of it all, teeth and dick both aching. The air smelled of sex and blood, it was completely intoxicating.  
The strobe was still on, making everything into a stop action movie, unreal, but all the other lights had been switched to red. This movie was bathed in blood.  
All the control he thought he’d learned was a joke, it was taking _everything_ he had just to keep it together. There was no way he’d be able to make his teeth go away now, here, even if his life depended on it.

A tap on his shoulder, Alex turned to see a topless chick with dyed black hair and pink eyes grinning up at him through false fangs. She held up the hand with her ring in what was obviously an invitation, eying his bare torso and licking her lips.  
He couldn’t he couldn’t he _couldn’t_! He so very badly wanted to fuck the shit out of her, and drink from her, or from _anyone_...  
He didn’t dare let her cut him, he’d heal before she could even lick the wound. People didn’t do that! He needed to get out of here!  
Before he did something extremely stupid.

But the temptation was just so very great. Bodies writhed all around him, illuminated in jerky flashes, the scent of blood filling the room.  
The girl in front of him, nicking her own breasts with her ring, cupping the undersides and holding them toward him as an offering. Alex watched transfixed as bead of blood trickled down, hung from her nipple, then fell.  
He was in _way_ over his head here, he had to get out now!  
Completely overwhelmed now, and nearly out of his mind with the bloodlust, Alex brushed her aside and fled the bar. He _needed_ to kill someone, as soon as possible, anyone.  
But not here.

 

****

A couple days later, Alex realized he needed a real plan of some sort. Well he knew he was considered dead by Ofdensen, so maybe he was free to just be a vampire now? That’s what he was, after all, and covering his tracks all the time got old.   
What he really wanted was to have a home again, and since he couldn’t go home, he would have to find a new one. Someplace he could be himself, and be accepted, if any such place even existed.  
He was just so lonely these days, being back with Dethklok had only made it all the more apparent and harder to ignore. 

But where could he go and be accepted for the vampire he was?  
There was only real possibility there, as far as he’d been able to discover.  
He’d looked around online of course, way back when he’d first changed, trying to find vampires that roughly fit his description. So many were walking corpses, either bloated or withered. Several didn’t even drink blood, but ate the bodies. He had no desire to eat the people he killed, and wasn’t going to start just to fit some dumb legend.

There had been only three kinds that he’d been able to find that came anywhere close to what he was. Information and legends tended to vary so much by source though, it was hard. For all he knew, none of these things had every really existed.  
But what had happened to him, it _had_ to have come from somewhere. Some of the legends had to be at least in part true.  
Of the three, there was only one he was even seriously considering, that fit what he wanted.

The first kind was one called a mullo, it at least was supposed to usually look human. They lived in Serbia or Romania, depending on which site you read. According to some sources, they wore white, and had hair down to their feet. White clothes he could get, but his hair was nowhere near that long. They also had “something weird” about them, physically, though he had never been able to figure out quite what that meant. But their thing was to seek out and harass or kill people they didn’t like while they were alive. He probably couldn’t fit into that one very well, he wasn’t dead and he didn’t know anybody in those countries.

Then there was one called an upir, sometimes upyr, that was really vicious. There were supposed to live in Russia and the surrounding areas. It at least looked like a man and walked around during the day, but killed families, always the kids first. Also it was supposed to bathe in blood, which sounded disgusting. Sure he liked blood a whole lot, but he didn’t want it all over him!  
Those things, basically it went merrily around slaughtering entire families, way more than it could drink, and just left everything a big mess. Sometimes it even ate their hearts too.  
That was definitely not something he wanted to be!

The moroi from Romania looked like his best shot, they weren’t even considered evil. They were supposed to be beautiful and tall (he was at least tall) and active at any time of day. Also pale, he wasn’t really, but people from those regions usually tended to be darker so he might count as pale to them. They did drink blood, but they didn’t kill. They were said to be popular with the ladies. They weren’t immortal, so maybe they weren’t dead?  
Many of them were supposed to have elemental powers, he didn’t, but some developed them late or not at all.

They’d never found the origin of the stuff he’d drank, it was quite possible that he really was one of these. Except he’d killed, and very frequently.  
Could he _not_ kill now, if he had a choice? If he found these people, would they feed and protect him as they were fabled to?  
Being back with the band, even for that short time, made him realize how much he longed to belong somewhere again, to have some sort of home and people who cared about him.  
To be something other than a killer in the streets, hiding out in flop motels.  
He needed to do more research.

****

The library had computers, computers didn’t care what language you knew. He needed some idea where to head to, if he was going to try to pass for a moroi.  
Dracula was from Transylvania. Dracula was kind of a dick though.  
Oh, Transylvania was part of Romania? He studied the maps and information, looking for a village that would maybe welcome him. Something small and old, where people would still believe in legends...  
He didn’t know that language either, but hopefully somebody would speak English. It seemed that some people did, no matter where you were.

Alex found one that looked promising, a small farming community that was surrounded by forests.  
Now, how to get there. Finding rides would take a while, and he was a little nervous to cross all those borders with no ID card, if anyone checked. But they probably wouldn’t check, and he could steal one and copy the person...  
It would just be quicker and easier to fly. He’d never had a lot of patience anyway, and nothing had changed there.  
A kill before he left would buy him some time to hopefully set up his new life.

But first, he realized he wasn’t even sure if he could feed and not kill. He’d never really tried it. Alex knew that before he set off for this potential new life, he had to test this out. Someone, anyone, that he could stay with for a few days and experiment on.  
If he couldn’t manage to hold back, to not drink him dry, then this whole plan was shit.  
How hard was it going to be, to bite a neck and then make himself let go? He’d barely managed with Nathan, so long ago, but then had only quit with Skwisgaar when they’d forced him to turn loose.

****

His name seemed to be Jock, or at least that was the closest Alex could make it out. He’d let himself be picked up in what he was pretty sure was a gay bar, thought he wasn’t positive because the clientele seemed pretty mixed, and had gone home with the guy.  
It was only then that Alex realized he had no idea how to bite someone and not have them running for some sort of help later.  
Well he knew that he could make them feel what he wanted them to, if he made the guy enjoy it and not mind, maybe he wouldn’t care?  
But would the effect linger when the connection was broken? _That_ he had no idea about.

He really needed to experiment on this guy, but if he fucked up and killed him, oh well not the end of the world. They’d been kissing on the couch for a bit, while he tried to work out how to move nonchalantly to the man’s throat. Finally he just broke the kiss and started kissing the neck instead, had to go for it somehow.  
Concentrating on trying to make the man feel complacent and content, Alex bit him.  
It seemed to work! Or at least he thought it did, this felt different than usual.  
Letting go was actually the hardest part, it went against everything he’d become.

“You okay?” Was that too much? He didn’t think so, it felt like nothing, but he had no idea.  
“Oui. Yes.” He muttered something more in French that Alex caught none of, but seemed... Well, almost post orgasmic. That was mildly creepy. With a smile, Jock lay down, his head on the armrest. Alex got up and picked the man’s feet onto the couch so he looked more comfortable. He was going to take a nap now? Okay.  
Feeling free to wander the house, confident he could catch the guy in time if he got up and ran, he started nosing around. Documents in a drawer listed the man’s name as Jacques, maybe Jock was a nickname?

In the morning, after Jock had gotten up and ate breakfast, Alex bit him again. He still kissed him some first, but not much. It was easier to stop this time, he was getting confident he could actually do this.  
He seemed tired again afterwards, more than before, so they sat on the couch and watched some tv. Even caught the Dethklok Minute, but it was only more not-news today.  
Later, Alex bit him again. At least the guy seemed to welcome it, or at least not mind. He hadn’t made any objections anyway, and he hadn’t tried to escape.

But Jock wasn’t doing so well now, he seemed weak and mostly out of it. Alex was pretty sure he wasn’t taking too much each time, so what was the problem? Fortunately, the guy had a computer, and there were lots of websites about blood.   
Well he was doing it all wrong, that was the problem.  
Alex read through several pages, trying to do the math as he went, to figure out how to make it all work.  
 _If_ it could even work, it was only looking more and more complicated to pull off.

It seemed that most people held between eight and twelve pints, men usually had more. He was used to eating men, and needed about one a week, so that meant he need at least ten pints a week? Could that be that right? Alex knew he’d eaten way more back in Dethklok, usually at least three pints a day, sometimes a lot more. Was he really living on so little now? That didn’t seem possible, but that’s what the numbers said.  
Okay, now how much could they lose and how often? How fucked was Jock? And how many volunteers would he need per week just to get by?  
There were a lot of sites about that too.

So people could lose 15% with no problems, but it took several weeks to completely grow back. So once a month was probably the closest interval that was still safe for them.  
At 30% they would be in trouble, and at 40% they’d die without transfusions. How much had he taken from Nathan that time? At least 30%, it seemed.  
Well if 15% was fine, and 30% was bad, maybe 20% was still okay enough to count? Grabbing some free paper, he’d gone beyond his ability to work the numbers in his head, he tried to do the math.

It looked like he could probably take a pint and a half from a woman or small man, more like two from a larger person. Maybe another half from a really big or fat person, but that would be pushing things. So if he was drinking ten pints a week...  
To be safe, at least seven people. Four sets of at least seven people, so they all had time to recover. That was a lot of people!  
He could only hope that they were _really_ into their legends, these people where he was planning to go. 

Okay, so he knew he could do it, now to get there. He checked flight plans.  
The closest airport to where he was heading seemed to be Sibiu International, roughly seventy-five miles away. But he could hopefully find a ride and cover the distance in a couple hours.  
But first, to deal with Jock. According to his reading, he’d taken too much in too short of a time, so they guy needed a hospital soon or he would probably die.  
That wasn’t going to happen. But he needed to eat more before he left anyway, and it would just be a lot easier to finish off Jock than to hunt someone new.  
Sorry Jock, sucks to be you.

****

The flight had been uneventful, and Alex was far less worried about security and all that now that he fully understood how other people saw him and just how easy it actually was to control that.  
Alone in a strange land yet again, he needed a ride heading east. Did hitchhiking work the same everywhere?  
Apparently so, because soon a family in a small car stopped for him. They spoke words he couldn’t understand, so he just pointed they way he wanted to go and they motioned for him to get in.  
It was a bit tight, he was sharing the back seat with three children while the parents and a forth child rode in the front.

The children studied him curiously, the closest one reaching up to touch a long strand of blond hair that had worked its way from under his hood. The mother spoke, and the hand was pulled away.  
Alex smiled at her in what he hoped was a reassuring way. He was just glad for the ride, and wasn’t bothered by the children’s interest. Their dark eyes watched him, the farthest one’s flecked with gold.  
Curious about his (hopefully) new home, Alex turned to the window and watched the scenery slide past. This was a pretty country.

The car stopped in a city, this was apparently as far as they were going. They let him out in a busy area, that was nice, it would be easier to find a ride here. Alex waved to them and they drove away.  
Trying to remember the maps he’d studied, he was pretty sure he needed to go north from there to get where he wanted to be. This city was far too large to suit his purposes.  
Walking north, he got lucky again and a man stopped for him before he’d gotten very far at all. Alex got in, and after a bit of back and forth attempts, he discovered the guy even spoke English! Not very well, but good enough to figure out what he was trying to say.

It didn’t take all that long to get there. His ride offered to drop him off somewhere specific, but Alex wanted to walk in and get a feel for the place so he asked to be let out before the main part of the town seemed to start. He liked what he’d seen so far, the scattered houses, not fancy but seemingly in good repair, the quietness of the highway.  
In a way, it felt like coming home. Even though he’d never lived anywhere like this, his parents’ village had a very different vibe to it.  
Was this proof that he was one of these moroi? 

Who was in charge here, and how could he find them? There were a group of children playing ball in an open field. Alex stopped, hoping he could ask for directions. One of the older ones, a boy, approached him and said something he couldn’t understand.  
“English?”  
“Some. You lost?”  
“I don’ts know yet. You gots a leader guy I can talks to?”  
The boy cocked his head, maybe translating that, then motioned for him to follow.

They walked, people coming out so see the stranger as he followed the boy deeper into the town. Their gazes seemed curious, maybe a little reserved.  
People seemed to be mostly shorter here, at least all the ones he saw along the way, and most had darker coloring. Good, he was supposed to be tall and pale, according to what he’d read. But would they accept him?  
Then the boy stopped, at a house that as far as Alex could tell, was no different than the others they’d passed. Not fancier, or marked as special in any way.

An older man came out, dressed similar to the others he’d seen so far.   
The boy spoke to him in another language, motioning to Alex. The man spoke back. Back and forth, saying things he couldn’t understand.  
Alex looked around, he liked this place and hoped things could work out. And if they didn’t the surrounding woods would offer him a great deal of cover if he needed it.  
The boy waved and headed back the way they’d come, and the man turned to him.

“My name is Ephraim. Why you here?” He knew English! Good. His tone was curious, not hostile.  
“Um, I thinks maybe I’s supposed to be here? I looks up a holy lots of stuff online, and then I gets on a plane and then gets rides and now I’s here.”  
Ephraim nodded. “But why you think you belong here?”  
He almost didn’t want to say it, but he’d come all this way. If they didn’t welcome him, well, he would at least have tried. “I thinks I’s a...” Alex realized he had not the first clue how to pronounce the word ‘moroi.’ He had to try, so he took a guess. “A... mue-roo-e?”

He could see the man’s confusion, trying to make sense of the word. Clearly he’d said it all wrong, that didn’t exactly help his case. Not knowing what else to do, Alex showed his teeth, pointing to them.  
“Oh, _moroi_!”  
So it was pronounced mo-roy, good to know.  
“There has not been one here in my lifetime, but I know stories well. You wish to live here? For us to feed you?”  
Alex nodded gratefully.

Ephraim nodded thoughtfully. “You have a name?”  
“Alex.” He was glad he’d picked that name, it fit in pretty much everywhere.  
“Alex, you have been places. You have killed?”  
He didn’t see any way to plausibly deny that. “I has.” He’d had no choice!  
“You not kill here.” A statement, a command, not a question.  
“Noes.”

“Tell me what is you talent?”  
Shit, that elemental thing! Of course his talent was, had been, metal, but that wasn’t an acceptable answer here. “I don’t think I has one?” Would he be rejected now, for lacking this requirement?  
But Ephraim just nodded. “Maybe will come to you.”  
Oh right, some developed it late, so his cover story was still good. It would actually be pretty cool if he got some sort of powers, but that seemed unlikely.

Moving on, Ephraim got down to business. “How many it take to feed you?”  
Alex explained the math, or at least tried to. About how many, how often he needed them, how long they had to wait in between, and everything. Was he asking for too much? He thought he might be.  
But Ephraim was just nodding. “And women only?”  
“Can be mixed, I don’ts care.” He was used to feeding exclusively off men, of course he didn’t mind them.  
“The men, you want sex?”  
 _Oh_. “No sexes with the mens! I likes goils for that.” Did this mean he was supposed to fuck them?! He’d figure it out later, but that could be a nice bonus.

****

Alex was placed in a small, vacant house. It was very simple, like the others he’d seem as they walked through the village, and likely only vacant because of its size. It seemed that everybody had families here! That was kind of nice though.  
His house was tiny. It was mostly all one room, with a small bed, similar to the one he’d had at home, a table beside it, and a wooden chair. Across from the bed, there was a kitchen area, just a sink and a listing old stove that looked like it had seen far better days. There was an empty space that might have once held a fridge, but he didn’t need one of those anyway.  
A ceiling light with no cover was centered over the room.

The floor was plain wood boards, slightly uneven. There was a window in the door and one beside the bed, both covered with dusty homemade curtains that didn’t block any light.  
The bathroom was near the foot of the bed, it looked like it may have been added on to the original structure. Tiny, with barely enough room for the sink, toilet, and footed tub it contained, a bare bulb on the wall beside the old and pitted mirror was the only light.  
A woman had showed up shortly after they arrived, handing him a thin pillow, some sheets, a blanket for the bed, and a couple tattered towels.

He asked if they had televisions here, that was one thing he’d forgotten to research. These people seemed poor, at least by his standards, and even though he’s spotted a few satellite dishes, anyone having a spare tv to give him might be too much to ask.  
Fortunately it seemed that they indeed did, and soon two younger guys, teenagers probably, were knocking on his door. Alex stood aside while Ephraim gave instructions.  
The tv was placed on the table, the only real place it could go. The satellite box was old and battered, and the remote had a chunk of plastic missing from one side, exposing the circuit boards. The tv itself was small, a tube tv with a screen about the size of his old laptop’s.

There was banging outside as they installed the satellite dish, probably nailing it to the house itself. More banging as a spike was driven through the wall, and a wire fed inside. The boys came back in and hooked it up, running the setup and apparently explaining how to work it. Alex understood none of it, but he was sure he could figure it out on his own later.  
Ephraim and the boys left, and Alex made up his bed. Now what?  
He sat on the bed, pushing the curtain aside to look out into the unfamiliar landscape.  
He was... home?

Turning on the tv, might as well check what channels he could get, Alex flipped through them. It didn’t take long, even with the satellite he could only get five clearly, though a couple others flickered and might come in on cloudy days. None of them were in English. Or Norwegian, which would have worked fine too, or even Swedish, which he wasn’t as good with. Oh well. He did find one station that seemed to be showing music videos, though he didn’t recognize the band on the screen. Well if any channel carried what he wanted, it would be this one.  
Another channel seemed to be mostly cartoons, at least at this hour. That was good, he would probably be able follow those even with not understanding the dialog.

****

Alex spent the next two days getting the lay of the village, there wasn’t really all that much to see. People either regarded him with curiosity (mostly the children) or pretty much ignored him. They knew what he was, right? Ephraim told them?  
It was very pretty here, peaceful. The woods surrounded the village, with crops growing greenly in areas that had been cleared. Other fields held livestock, though it seemed a fair amount was allowed to wander around at will. There had even been sheep behind his house when he’d woken that morning. In some ways, it reminded him of growing up in rural Norway, but less visible mountains, way less parents.

Communication was a problem. Although it seemed that a few of the kids knew a bit of English, none of the adults aside from Ephraim were anywhere close to fluent. They knew a couple words at best, and didn’t seem to understand when he tried to speak to a few of them.  
That kind of sucked! What if he just wanted to talk to them sometimes?   
Of course he could learn their language... only he probably couldn’t. That just wasn’t one of his talents, languages. Leaning English had been really hard in school, and he still fucked that all up sometimes.

There was a large public gathering area, mostly open. It was there that Ephraim led him today, a lot of people were waiting. Not the whole village, but still a lot of people.  
Ephraim gestured to them. “These are picked. Do any not meet your needs?”  
Oh, these people were his... food? This was almost creepy, even though this was why he’d come here in the first place. Alex looked them over, yes he had some objections. “Um, no pregnants goils?” It just didn’t seem right to feed off them  
They were all looking at him now, their faces oddly emotionless.

Ephraim said something, and there was shuffling as the obviously pregnant girls moved apart from the rest. What remained looked to be probably over half men now, but that was fine, he was used to feeding on guys.  
Now what? More words from Ephraim and they split into groups, a few more removed for whatever reason. Groups of ten? That was more than he probably needed, but that was good. Safer if there were more, he could take less from each.  
“Tomorrow.” Ephraim said with a nod, and it seemed that everybody was dismissed.

****

Alex was still asleep when the knock came, but he slept lightly these days. Getting up, he found a group of ten people on his doorstep. Breakfast in bed? “Comes in.”  
They didn’t respond, clearly not understanding, so he stepped aside and gestured for them to enter. That worked. The small room seemed crowded with all these people in here.  
Where did he start? Shit, how did he even know how much was too much? He didn’t want to fuck this up!  
Holding up his index finger in what he really hoped was the universal sign for ‘wait a minute’, Alex went into the bathroom and shut the door.

How had he been so stupid to overlook this very important detail? Think!  
Okay... he’d drank pints from the fridge back at Mordhaus, but dead blood didn’t compare to living. Not helpful.  
There was a small cup in here on the sink, he’d brought it in for rinsing his mouth. Small cups were about a measuring cup, half a pint, right? Filling it with water, Alex drank, making sure to count his swallows.  
Okay, good. Twice that... Now he had at least some idea of how to measure it. He should probably go with a couple less swallows, just to be safe, at least to start with? He went back to join them.

They were still waiting silently. For some reason they had formed two lines, one behind the other.  
With a shrug, Alex went to the first person in front on his left, a middle aged man, and bit his neck.  
Biting was still different, so much harder to back away from than when he cut them instead. But he counted carefully, and forced himself to let go. That little bit just made him hungrier!  
Fuck it, that’s what they were there for! He bit the next one, a young woman. Her breasts heaved against his chest as he drank, reminding him that he hadn’t gotten laid in a while.  
Letting her go was easier, since he didn’t normally feed on women.

Down the line he went, then the next line. They just stood, offering no resistance. Even the ones he was done with, still just standing there waiting, his teeth marks marring their necks. It was pretty weird. He kept glancing back at that first girl’s tits, he kind of wanted to fuck her but didn’t know what the rules were. Better not then.  
When he was finished with them all, they turned and filed out as silently as they’d come, closing the door behind them.  
Alex, feeling well fed and lazy, still thinking about tits, decided he might as well jack off.

****

While walking through the village yet again (he got bored) Alex had smelled something alcoholic in an old bottle that a group of men were sharing. Even though drinking strange alcohol was what had gotten him into trouble in the first place, he wanted some. They were drinking it, so had to be safe, right?  
It took some pantomiming to make his request clear, but finally they understood and handed over the bottle. It smelled funny, but he didn’t let that stop him. Alex drank, judging by the burn it was a lot stronger than it smelled. The men hooted appreciatively, and Alex grinned at them as he handed the bottle back.

After that, people started leaving bottles on his doorstep. All shapes and sizes, but all containing a similar concoction. It must be a regional thing, something everybody made. Alex very much appreciated these gifts, getting drunk was pretty much the only hobby he had left these days. Well, since he’d quit with the pickpocketing and murder, if you even wanted to call those hobbies.  
Getting drunk passed the time, drink and watch cartoons. He actually wished he could play guitar, and someone surely would have loaned him one, but he just _couldn’t_.  
His new life was kind of boring, actually.

He kept an eye on his tv music channel. He didn’t understand the language the announcer guys spoke, maybe German? But they played music videos sometimes. Mostly European bands, some he knew and some he didn’t, but with a few American bands mixed in. They did replay the Dethklok Minute, he’d figured out at what time so he could tune it, but there had been no real news on that front in a while.  
No news was good news, right? But he still worried about Skwisgaar, about how he was doing. The man he’d left behind in the Dethcopter had been none too stable, but he’d had no choice!

****

The weeks went by, all so much the same. Ephraim had come to visit, looking concerned. “Do you not find them good? The women?”  
Oh shit, so he _was_ supposed to fuck them! Which he was honestly very tempted to do, at least a couple of them, but had been resisting. For one thing, he had no condoms and this was clearly not a society that encouraged birth control. Alex had no idea if he could still get anyone pregnant, but he knew for sure that he didn’t want to. And those legends he was impersonating, those vampires had kids!  
But if he was being offensive but _not_ fucking any of them... It was all so confusing! “Some of them’s real pretties.”  
“Tell me, what is wrong?”

Alex wasn’t even sure if he just really didn’t want to risk having kids, or was more afraid of making monster babies. His level of restraint had been hard won, a kid would have none at all. He may have come to terms with what he was, but that didn’t mean he wanted to unleash similar creatures into the world. Or leave girls with kids he couldn’t take care of.  
And he _wouldn’t_ take care of them, with is upbringing he had no business having anything to do with raising kids, normal ones or otherwise.  
Now he was apparently expected to fuck anyway, with no means of protection.  
But clearly he had to do this, or at least try. To fit in, to stay here.

He couldn’t possibly explain the condoms thing, not to the leader of a village who clearly thought children were a great gift. What else could he say? “Uh, alls the peoples watching?” That was a good one! It would be creepy, getting laid with that silent wall of spectators.  
“You pick, I send alone.”  
Well fuck. Actually that didn’t sound bad at all, and he _did_ miss it a lot, but he really wished he had some damn condoms. “Okays.” He didn’t see much choice here, he’d just have to take his chances and hope for the best. With a little luck, it wasn’t even a risk anymore. He did his best to explain which one he wanted, and thought he’d made himself clear enough.

She showed up the next day, the one he’d picked, the one with the tits from the first group. He loved the way she always panted in his ear when he bit her, her soft chest against his. He led her into his room and closed the door. It had been _way_ too long!  
She was acting the way she did when they came to feed him, just standing still and expressionless. Alex tipped her head up and kissed her. She stayed mostly passive, kissing back but it seemed distressingly minimal. When he tugged on the neck of her blouse, she pulled it over her head and stood half naked.  
Hmm. Her lack of enthusiasm was a bit troubling, but his body was responding to hers just fine, and he was supposed to do this.

“Does you even wants to does this?” Alex knew she couldn’t understand him, but asked anyway. He touched the waistband of her skirt with one finger, and she took that as a cue to remove it, and her underwear. Completely naked, she stood in the middle of the room.  
Alex stepped back and looked her over, appreciating what he saw. “Onlies if you wants to, okays?”  
Again nothing, but when he gestured to the bed, she went and lay upon it, legs spread and waiting.  
Still more than a bit weirded out by her placidity, Alex stripped and moved to join her.

He played with her tits a bit, he liked tits. Everybody liked tits, tits were cool. She didn’t seem to care one way or the other what he did, just lying there. She would return his kisses, but still only barely.  
Giving up on trying to get her to participate, Alex decided to just get on with it. He was supposed to be doing this, after all. He positioned himself and slid into her, she felt very good indeed on his dick. Her still mostly blank stare bothered him though, so he closed his eyes and just concentrated on how she felt.

But he couldn’t do it, he just couldn’t. Alex suspected that she was only doing this because she’d been told, maybe ordered, to and that wasn’t okay. If only he could talk to her!  
He pulled out, well no worries about getting her pregnant now, and sat on the bed, ignoring his achingly hard dick for the moment. “You can goes, I knows you don’ts really wants this.”  
Now she looked at him, looking worried, like she thought she’d failed.  
With a sigh, he got up and put on his pants, then gathered her clothes. Handing them to her, he kissed her on the forehead and smiled, trying to convey that she had done nothing wrong here.

Once she was out the door, he kicked his pants back off and jacked off yet again. It wasn’t anywhere near as good, but fuck it, at least he didn’t have to feel guilty about it. If that’s how it was always going to be here, he’d just as soon not get laid at all.  
That accomplished, Alex grabbed one of his bottles and turned on the tv, not even bothering to redress.  
This was what his life had become, jack off, drink, and watch tv he couldn’t even understand.  
And think, he seemed to think too much these days, despite all his drinking. Most of it was useless, pointless crap, but some of it was actual revelation stuff.

He’d noticed something interesting, now that he’d been feeding this way for a while. Although he was sure he was drinking at least the same volume as he’d grown used to now, possibly even more, it just wasn’t having the same effect.  
For some reason, he didn’t seem to ever recharge to his full strength when he didn’t kill.  
That was okay, he didn’t need that here, he felt plenty safe enough, but it was puzzling.  
What was it about killing that made it so different, better? Something for sure, something that made him crave it, but he could control himself.

The other thing, the one he tried so hard to ignore, was how homesick he still felt. _This_ was supposed to be his home, his new home, but it seemed that his heart still lived in Mordland. He missed Skwisgaar the most, which was no surprise after all the time they’d spent together, but he missed the others too. Nathan had always been so good to him, helping him any way he could. Letting him bite when he wanted, needing its calming effect. Pickles had worked with him so hard when he’d had to try to learn to control his teeth, despite all the pain he’d inflicted. And even Murderface had come around to stand by him and support him. _Fuck_ he missed them all so much!

Here... it was like home in a different way. Alex took another long drink from his bottle. Here, the way they acted around him, it was almost like how the Klokateers acted. How everybody treated him like he was different, like they couldn’t ever just pal around or anything. Hood guys without hoods, that’s what they seemed like.  
And Ephraim, he was a little bit like Ofdensen, trying to take care of everybody and run things.  
But here, he didn’t have his band to hang out with, to interact with. He was so lonely!  
Thinking about all this crap did him no good. Alex finished off his bottle, and without bothering to turn off the tv, curled up naked on his bed and tried to sleep.

****

Alex got quite a surprise one day while idly flipping through the channels, and checking the music video channel. That was Murderface! He stopped, turning it up to listen. Definitely not Dethklok. _Planet Piss_?! He moved closer, watching and listening.  
Murderface and Silas. He hadn’t know that Murderface could play drums, but he actually wasn’t half bad. He wasn’t Pickles, but _nobody_ was Pickles. And Sy could sing, but that wasn’t any big reveal because he hardly knew anything about the guy. Most people could sing, at least some.  
Planet Piss was really a thing, after all these years.  
Good for them!

It made him homesick all over again though, brought it back to the surface full force. He fucking _missed_ them! He’d tried and tried to put all that behind him, but it just never really worked, no matter how much he drank.   
What he had here, the home and the people who fed him, oh sure it had seemed like a great idea, but now it was wearing so very thin. Just like groupies when he was in Dethklok, they wanted him for what he was, not _who_ he was. And here, he didn’t even get laid! Well he could, but he wasn’t going to, not like that.  
He should be happy, he knew he should be.  
He was safe, well fed, he didn’t have to kill. He didn’t have to do anything at all.

But he was just so damn homesick, there was no other word for it. And it sucked!  
He kept reminding himself that this was supposed to be his new home, he was supposed to feel at home, but he didn’t. It ate at him, gnawed at him, on a level that even all the booze could never reach, a painful hollow deep inside him.  
Stupid dildos, making him miss them so damn much!  
But he was thinking, he didn’t even kill anymore, hadn’t since he’d gotten here! Maybe he could go home again? Maybe they could set it up with some gears, just like here?  
But he knew it was impossible, that wasn’t his home anymore, it was lost to him forever.

He’d promised Skwisgaar that he’d come back and see him someday, but that was one promise it didn’t look like he was going to be able to keep.  
He could go back, sure, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to leave again.  
Maybe he could catch him during the next tour, that might work. Sneak his way in, spend the night, and then let them move on without him? Even that was probably too much of a risk.  
Well, there weren’t even rumors of a new album yet, he had time to think about it. After the album, once the tour dates were set, he’s consider his options.

This life, nothing changed except the faces of the groups who came to feed him. They were all so similar in their demeanor that they might as well have been all the same people over and over again. He didn’t even bother thinking about sex anymore, just jacked off when he felt the need.  
Watched a lot of nothing on tv. Paid little attention to the seasons, since temperatures didn’t bother him one way or the other. Walked in the surrounding woods just to get out of the fucking house and move around for a bit. Laid around on his bed and drank, trying to drink the thoughts away.  
Over and over again.

The days, weeks, months passed, and Alex was completely bored out of his fucking mind. He had no friends here, and there was nothing to do!  
Even when there had been some sort of celebration in the village with music and dancing, when he’d tried to join in everyone had stepped aside. They’d even halted that damn folk music.  
It was no use, he had no friends here and he never would. He might be a thing of their legends, but he wasn’t one of _them_.  
Well, at least they all kept him well supplied with booze.

****

Ephraim had noticed his depression, and urged Alex to confide in him. They were sitting in Ephraim’s house, and the guy was reminding him so hard of the manager that he caved in and tried to explain how lonely he was. Just like a pathetic, ungrateful...  
But instead of the expected disdain, he was met with sympathy. "Do any of your family still live?  
Did Dethklok count? They weren't _really_ family, and he couldn't go back there anyway. But he did have one parent left... He answered honestly. "My mother."  
"Do you want to see this mother?"  
No! But, in a way... Yes he did. He hadn’t even thought about her, considered her, but it might be a possibility.

Would she accept him, would she let him stay there? Maybe he still had a home, of sorts? Maybe he could go home.  
He wouldn't be able to feed on people there, but the woods around his house were full of wild game.  
He knew from early tests that he could survive on animals, it just wasn't as good for him, somehow less effective. He didn't really care about that anymore though, he knew he could get by without feeding on people. If he could live there, if she let him stay, he could hunt in the woods. Alex generally liked animals better than people, but he could kill them if he needed to. He could even give the bodies to the needy! That would be helpful.

Although Alex knew they’d had their differences in the past, oh boy did they ever, there was really nothing she could do to him anymore. He was a grown man, and if that wasn’t enough, he was also a super strong vampire. They could put his horrific childhood aside, and forge a new relationship. He’d even help her with the church stuff!  
His father had been the bigger problem, and he was gone. His mother... Yes, he wanted to try it, see if he could find the home there that he’d never truly had.  
He nodded. “I think I would likes to see my mother.”

“Let me help make plans.” Ephraim encouraged him, he had a home here to come back to, people that would care for him. There was nothing to be lost by trying, and it might make him feel better.  
He’d been here for months at least, he wasn’t even sure how many, maybe even a year or so, time just blurred into one continuous stream. But Alex knew that if it hadn’t gotten any easier in all this time, it likely never would. It was time to try something different.  
He could feed well first, and if things didn't go as planned, be back in time to feed again. He wouldn't even have to kill anyone to make the trip!

Feeling so much better just to have a plan, Alex and Ephraim worked out the details. He would leave right after his next feeding, in only three days.  
Ephraim volunteered to drive him to the airport himself, from there it would just be a matter of stealing the necessary papers and caching a flight into Oslo, the closest international airport. He’d buy a round trip ticket while he had a stolen card, just to be safe. If he didn’t need to use it, well, not his money anyway.  
Alex... no, _Toki_ , he needed to start thinking of himself as Toki again, was going home.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Changes Parallel- chapter 16, part 2  
> Toki goes home to Norway, then into what’s likely western Russia (he’s not sure exactly where he is.)  
> No accents with Anja because they’re speaking Norwegian.  
> Warnings: attempted murder, regular murder, murder of children, cannibalism, torture

His plane landed in Oslo, as close as he’d been able to get, and now he was only a couple hours away. Toki caught a ride pretty quick, a businessman returning home to Lillehammer.  
It felt strange to be back in Norway again. To be thinking of it as home again, even if only potentially.  
He’d changed clothes once he landed, wanting to look more like the Toki she remembered, even though he was still wearing Alex’s face for now.  
It was strange having his hair loose and exposed, after hiding it under a hood for so long.  
He was so damn tired of hiding.

Toki’s ride toward his mother’s house was eerily reminiscent of his ride into the village, except this time of course there was no language barrier and the scenery was very familiar.  
There was little conversation though, he was too nervous, not knowing what was waiting for him when he arrived. Would she welcome him home? Surely she must, they were the only true family each other had left. He could have called ahead, but hoped a surprise might go over better.  
He’d kept his stolen papers this time, he’d bought a round trip ticket as planned, just in case. If this didn’t work out he’d just fly back to his village.

Finding another ride the rest of the way had also been easy, and lucky, he knew there was little else in that direction and had been prepared to just walk. This one, another man, seemed to sense his pensive mood and didn’t try to hold a conversation.  
Toki asked to be dropped off about a block down the road, he wanted to walk up. The guy did, and waved as he rumbled off.  
Mother needed to see a familiar face. Toki concentrated as he walked, making sure he would look like the old Toki she had known, that everyone had known.  
He was home again.

There had already been snow, there was still a dirty drift beside the road where someone had actually plowed this way, but the ground was mostly bare now, just some small patches remaining. Toki could see the pond from here, due to the bare trees. The middle hadn’t frozen yet. The barn was still standing, and a few of the small sheds, but they were in poor condition and it didn’t look like his mother kept any stock now. The church probably cared for her, the house looked to be in good repair at least.  
He hadn’t been home since his father died, it felt strange to stand here again.  
Would she welcome him?

She must have heard the car stop so close, because Anja Wartooth walked outside. She froze when she saw him, one hand rising to clutch at her heart.  
“Hello, Mother.” She was just staring at him, so he elaborated. “It’s me, Toki.”  
“I was told that you were dead. Are you an angel?”  
He shook his head sadly. “Hardly. I wanted to see you, Mother. May I come in?” He dared to walk up the path to where she waited.

She stared at him hard, studying him in that way scarily intense she’d always had. Toki stood and waited, there was nothing she could do to him anymore. That was all far behind them.  
“Wait here.” She retreated into the house, he remained where he was, but turned away to continue looking over the property.  
“Boy.”  
He turned back, and she flung the contents of a bowl into his face. Just water, holy water most likely. Dripping, Toki just sighed.

“I’m not some demon, Mother.”  
“You’re not my son either! What are you?! You will not cross this threshold.”  
“You thought I was an angel a minute ago! I’m not bad, I’m not...” Why did she still have this effect on him? Why had he even come here? _Nothing_ ever changed. “Please, Mother.”  
“No. Whatever you are, whatever you have become, you are no longer my son.”  
Toki noticed that she was clutching a small cross in her other hand.

Not knowing what else to do, he sat down on the porch steps. She remained standing. Looking up at her like this brought back all kinds of unpleasant memories, he had to remind himself again that time was over. “Mother, when I was small, why did you treat me as you did?” _Why didn’t you love me?_  
“We did what we thought was best. You were a willful boy. I see now that it was all for nothing, you are no child of God. Maybe you never were. I want you to leave this place, begone, foul thing!” She walked back through the door, and he heard it lock. _Both_ locks.

Well this wasn’t going anything like he’d hoped. Toki got up and walked around the side of the house, it was so strange to be home again. Even if she wouldn’t let this be his home.  
The condition of the stock pens told the story, nothing had been kept here in years, probably not since his father’s death. One shed, the chicken one, had collapsed, probably from the weight of past snows, but the other two still stood.  
Across the way, he could see an opening in the ground, his old punishment hole, buy no sign of the heavy lid that had once capped it. He had no desire to look closer.

If he stayed, if she relented and let him stay, he would fill that hole in first thing.  
She just needed time to adjust to him being back, she’d come around. She _had_ to, he was the only family she had left, that had to mean _something_ to her.  
She’d get used to him. Things would be different now.  
He’d give her the space she wanted, and surely in the morning they could talk about this.  
Toki continued his tour of the property.

The near shed, he remembered that one far too well, how he’d been chained there, sometimes for days. Were the chains still there? In his memory he still saw them bolted securely to the back wall. He hadn’t even known that wasn’t something that everybody did, back then.  
He had to look, to put the memory to rest.  
The door hung partially open, Toki slipped through the gap without torching it.  
They were gone. A couple shelves littered with parts, odds and ends, ran the full length of that wall. There was no real sign that anything else had ever been there.

Still no sign of his mother, she hadn’t even lit a lamp. She was probably watching him though.  
Walking out to the pond, he reconsidered his options. He could move on tonight, he’d have to walk in the dark because there was unlikely to be any traffic this late, or he could stay and try again to talk to his mother in the morning as planned.  
It was getting dark, he couldn’t just give up after coming all this way, so he decided to stay. The other shed, the one where they’d kept the rabbits, he could sleep in there.  
He’d used to hide in there sometimes, as a child. The soft, quiet shapes of the rabbits in their hutches had been oddly comforting. He went to check it out.

The shed smelled musty, but he’d slept in far worse places. The hutches were still there, broken and empty, lining both walls. Finding a spot on the floor that seemed relatively clear of debris, he lay down and went to sleep.  
Toki was woken by a great deal of liquid splashing down on him, soaking him. He sputtered, sitting up in confusion. The odor was unmistakable, this wasn’t holy water again, this was-  
His mother struck a match and dropped it, igniting the oil. Toki had only a split second to note the cold determination in her eyes before all he could see was fire.

Panicked, he bolted from the shed, _he was on fire_! He had to make it to the pond, somehow, but he couldn’t even see where he was going!  
It _hurt_ , burning hurt so bad! Where was the water?! He ran blind, unable to tell if he was even moving in a straight line, hoping to avoid trees.  
Then he stumbled and fell, realizing he’d tripped on the old snowbank beside the road. He’d run the wrong way!  
The snow was hard and somewhat packed, but it was his only chance now, he was too far from the pond. He threw himself over on it, rolling and flailing, just trying to put out the flames.

Finally they were out, but the pain was huge and terrible, still burning him alive. He could barely see at all, his eyes had been badly damaged, but he thought his arms looked blackened. His clothes were mostly burned away, not that he could even feel them, just a few strips of charred rags that hung from him.  
Lying beside the road, on dirty snow now surely made dirtier with skin and blood, and essentially naked, reeking of burned flesh.  
He had to kill, as soon as possible, that was the only way he could possibly heal from this. She’d left him no choice, his body was burning through his reserves far too quickly in an effort to just stay alive. 

His first thought was to kill her, she’d tried to take his life, she should pay with her own. That was fair, right?  
But he couldn’t, no matter what she was still his mother. Or maybe he just didn’t have it in him to kill _both_ his parents.  
Even if he could get through that heavy door, which in this state was highly unlikely.  
Grateful for the darkness, Toki forced his burned body upright and started making his way slowly down the road, navigating mostly by the feel of the pavement beneath his feet. How far could he get in this state? How was he even supposed to hunt like this?!  
He was truly a monster now.

A few hours later, his eyes had managed to heal enough that he could at least make out blurry shapes and colors. It wasn’t much of an improvement, but it was better than being essentially blind. The rest of him though...  
He’d made the mistake of looking, and even still mostly blind, even in the weak light of early dawn, the sight of his charred flesh had made him want to throw up if he’d been able to. So he focused straight ahead, concentrating on keeping himself moving. It was so hard!  
Was there still that farm up past the trees? Did people still live there?  
He hoped so, there was no way he could make it much further, he needed to feed, just to make this pain stop.

Up ahead, a shape that moved like a person, walking into a barn. Someone else in the house, a shadow beyond the window. The barn person would do.  
Trying to keep an eye out for movement from both the barn and the house (though what was he going to do if someone came out? He couldn’t run), he made his way to the barn as stealthily as he was currently capable of.  
The man turned as he entered, probably smelling him, but fortunately seemed to be rendered speechless by the ghastly apparition in front of him.

The monster grabbed him and they struggled, the badly damaged flesh of his arms sliding loose in the man’s grasp.  
He’d thought the pain couldn’t possibly get any worse, but he’d been so very wrong. He was far too weak, but he had to reach that throat no matter what it cost him.  
He sunk his teeth in, finally, but the blood mostly ran out of his mouth, his burned lips couldn’t make any kind of seal. They, or maybe just what was left of them, only split and broke when he tried.  
The man had quit fighting and collapsed, probably from shock.

The man was dying, the blood was being lost to the ground, wasted.  
Desperate, he slashed with his teeth, ripping the throat open and trying to drink from the spurting stream that resulted.  
Too much was wasted, and far too soon the man was dead.  
Still far too weak to get away, he dragged himself up the ladder into the hayloft, moving to a back corner where he’d be out of sight from anyone below.  
So tired and still aching miserably, he curled up and hoped the blood would be enough to heal him while he slept.  
But he didn’t so much fall asleep as pass out.

It was dark when he awoke. The first thing he noticed was that his vision had improved, everything was bleary and foggy, like seen through a filthy window, but at least he could see. There was still way too much pain, everywhere, but the quality of it had changed a bit.  
Glancing briefly at the parts he could see, he was still very badly hurt, a horror movie monster. He couldn’t stand to look. He’d have to eventually, but not yet.  
Even moving hurt, his skin seemed trying to hold him in the curled position he’d passed out in, and pulled horribly as he slowly straightened his body. Bits of hay were embedded in places, bristling.

He hadn’t healed as hoped, not nearly enough to count. Maybe if so much hadn’t been lost... but there’d been nothing he could have done differently. He moved his mouth, testing. Stiff and tight, like most of the rest of him, and his mouth felt twisted up to one side, he hoped he would be able to manage to drink better this time.  
There was another person in the house, maybe more than one. It didn’t matter who they were, he needed their blood.  
Getting up, it hurt so much to move, he crawled back to the ladder.

The body was gone, people had moved it while he was out. Sand had been put down in an effort to soak up the blood. He was lucky they hadn’t smelled him, but maybe the rich scent of the hay had masked his own charred odor.  
There were lights on in the house, so people were still there. They probably though it had been an animal attack, he’d certainly made a big mess of it.  
He crept to the back of the house and peered through the nearest window. A child’s room, but far better than the one he’d had. A little boy, maybe seven or eight, asleep in the bed. The window was cracked, just the tiniest bit.

It opened silently, and the vampire boosted himself through it, leaving smears of blood where still raw areas came in contact with the sill.  
He didn’t even feel bad about this, it was simple. He was a monster, and this boy had something he needed. Leaning down, he bit, still making a huge mess of it. Whatever was wrong with his mouth wasn’t fixed nearly enough yet.  
The boy never woke.  
Little ones just didn’t hold enough, even if he hadn’t spilled so much.

Quietly opening the door and moving into the rest of the house, he stalked the other person.  
He found her in the kitchen, a woman, sitting at the table. The set of her shoulders indicated that she was probably crying.  
He approached from behind, biting before she had time to react.  
It was better this time, he managed to slash where she bled into his mouth, like drinking from a fountain. He managed to swallow most of it, at least until the pressure ran down. This wasn’t very efficient, but it was reassuring to know that he could still feed.  
Well, slightly reassuring. 

No one should come along anytime soon, so he left the body slumped over the table and checked through the rest of the house. No more people, he hadn’t thought so but it was good to be certain. Inspection over, one room drew him back.  
The bathroom. A mirror. _Fuck_...  
He stood in the dark hallway, wanting to go in and look but feeling unable to face this thing he’d become. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as he thought?  
Maybe it was even worse than he thought.  
The need to know won, and he turned on the light and went to the mirror.

Leaning close enough to see, examining himself, he’d gone from charred and partially skinned from fighting the man, to mostly angry red masses of tender scars. They were raised and twisting, pulling his skin into tight bands. Raw areas still remained, a few of them quite large, and also a few scattered patches of black. His hair was gone, burned to stubble where his scalp wasn’t mottled with bands of red scarring, a few patches of white bone even showing thorough in places.  
His lower body didn’t seem quite as bad, she’d splashed the oil mostly on his arms and torso, and the flames had crawled up from there.  
Didn’t matter, was still horrible.

His mouth, _fuck_ no wonder he couldn’t drink right, his mouth was a frozen snarl. Teeth exposed, the left side pulled up and twisted. Lips, if you could even call those lips, just stiff bands of scar tissue.  
How was he supposed to feed efficiently like this?!  
Ho was he supposed to _really_ feed?!  
He tried to flex his mouth, but the mobility was very poor indeed. No matter how hard he pressed, too much blood would be lost from around these ruined lips.

And his eyes... no wonder he couldn’t see clearly. Seeming smaller inside the scarring, they were clouded over, the colors all but erased. Even his pupils were just smudges, they looked like they’d been boiled or something.  
If he thought about it, that was pretty much exactly what had happened.  
It was amazing that he was seeing even this well, even though he no longer wanted to see himself, couldn’t meet his nightmare visage any longer.  
He ran from the room, collapsing to the floor in the hallway.

A monster in every way now. She’d called him a monster, his mother, and she was right.  
Demon, monster, _vampire_ , evil... the name didn’t matter.  
Could he hide this? Would his trick of looking different still work? It _had_ to!  
He had to know. Getting up, searching the house, he found a cell phone with a camera. It was the crappy old kind, but it seemed to still be in service. He checked the camera function, yes it still worked.  
Taking it back to the bathroom, taking a deep breath, he pointed it where he could see the image in the mirror.  
Concentrating, he tried.

The image on the tiny screen was extremely difficult to focus on, but even so, he could tell that it wasn’t working! Sure he did look a little bit different, but the damage was visible even in a different form, he couldn’t change the burns and scars, he could only adjust the face that wore them. His hair was still gone.  
Unable to bear looking at his ruined reflection any longer, he punched the mirror, shattering it. The scarred mess that was his hand split and bled from the impact, but what was a little more pain?  
It didn’t matter what he tried, he couldn’t hide anymore.  
The monster on the inside was now on display for all to see.

If it hadn’t been so long since he’d killed, or if he’d found blood sooner after, would it have made a difference? No matter how well fed he’d been kept all that time, he was stronger when he killed.  
Anyone else would have never made it off that snowbank, could never have survived.  
But if things were different, could he have managed to heal? It didn’t really matter, it was too late now.  
And if he hadn’t died yet, he wasn’t going to.

Rummaging in the man’s bedroom, he found some clothes he could wear. Too big, but he could make them work.  
Stripping off the remnants of his clothing, taking skin with them in places where they’d become fused together by either heat or his body’s less that stellar attempts at healing, he dropped them to the floor. The jeans he had to tie on with a belt to keep them up, but that was okay. The black hoodie was big on him, the sleeves hanging to his fingertips. Good, he wanted to cover as much of him as possible, didn’t want to see that. He zipped it all the way up, and pulled the hood tight around his face.  
Didn’t want anybody to see that.

****

Roughly a week later, he slipped onboard a train, hiding in a baggage car. He’d found a train schedule that had blown far enough away that he could retrieve it unseen, and had picked his route from there. He was heading east, into a land hopefully fit for the monster he’d become.  
He’d traveled only by night, when at a distance, covered as he was, he could pass for human. As long as he avoided any lights, as long as no one saw the blood that stained his dark clothes. He’d killed nearly everyone he’d encountered along his path, regardless of age or gender. He didn’t care anymore, they were all just food, so he drank them.  
He hadn’t tried to look at himself again, had purposefully avoided all reflective surfaces.  
He couldn’t face himself.

He made it through the train system with surprising ease, sneaking off and back on when nobody was paying attention, marking his progress by the changing languages on the signs he passed. Swedish was familiar enough, but then they changed to a language he couldn’t read.  
If he couldn’t read the signs anymore, how would he know when he’d gone far enough? He wasn’t even sure he was still following the route he’d picked on his map.  
But then the signs changed again, now even the letters were different. He’d crossed another border.  
This was probably far enough.

He set out on foot from the train yard, unsure of exactly where he was or where he was going. He’d learned new things about himself along the way though, like how he no longer needed to worry about things like freezing to death. He’d known he didn’t seem to get cold, but even long exposure to freezing temperatures didn’t bother him even now.  
He also had incredible stamina, as long as he kept over-feeding as he had been. He could walk, or even run, for long distances without tiring. Running hurt, stretching and pulling his scars, but everything hurt. Pain was his new normal. Pain and blood.

****

He’d found a house. It was isolated enough that he couldn’t see another house from here.  
Moving stealthily, he crept to the window and peered inside. A family, as he’d expected. They seemed to be having dinner, which seemed appropriate in a twisted way.  
He’d thought before that killing kids would be hard, but now he understood that it was a kindness to kill them first and spare them horror that was to follow. The parents would likely attack him, but so what? Any additional damage they did should heal when he drank from them.  
Just so long as nobody set him on fucking fire again...  
Finding an unlocked window, the vampire slipped into the house unnoticed.

He moved fast, and they all screamed when they saw the horrible monster that was clutching the baby. He bit fast, tearing, and cast the child aside, not even bothering to drink from it, too small to bother with. He did the same to the little girl and her slightly older brother before the mother recovered enough to grab a kitchen knife and stab him in the upper back.  
Ripping it free and tossing it aside, he grabbed her and sank in his teeth, drinking as well as he was able.  
The man came up with a heavy club of some sort, tried to hit him but he reached out and grabbed it with one hand. Woman empty, he pulled the man to him and drank from him as well.

The entire family dead, the monster looked around. There was blood everywhere, mostly from the children. That was a waste, but he couldn’t possibly drink _all_ of them. He’d gotten quite a bit more on his clothes as well, wet and sticky, but didn’t care.  
This was what he was now. This was what he’d run from for so long, and he was through with running. He was a vampire, a killer, a monster. He could no longer pretend to be otherwise.  
In a way, it was a relief to stop fighting it, to just give in to these powerful urges to kill.  
He felt nothing for them. They were meat, made of blood. Made to eat.  
Leaving the carnage behind, he walked out of the house and moved on.

**** 

He was killing far more frequently than ever, as often as every other day. Whenever he came upon a somewhat isolated house, he saw no reason not to just go ahead and help himself to as much blood as he could hold.  
He wasted the rest.  
Long ago, in his other life, they’d smashed booze bottles that way. Drink all they could and destroy the rest, there would always be more to come.  
Why should these people be any different?

There was one thing he’d been wondering about though. The legends, some of them, said that these vampires, the ones from the region he was pretty sure he was in, ate hearts. Meat had no food value to him, but maybe it was just an enjoyable thing to do? He decided to try it now, just to see if he was missing out on something.  
He tore through the family as usual, ending with the woman. Instead of biting her, he paused. Was he supposed to tear it out while she was alive, or kill her first? The stuff he’d read hadn’t mentioned that detail.  
Well he didn’t like dead blood, so alive was probably better.

He ripped her shirt open, she screamed and flailed ineffectively at him. Probably thought he was going to rape her, but he had no interest at all in doing that.  
Teeth or knife? A knife would probably cut cleaner. Dragging her over to the counter, he selected one. She grabbed his arm, but was powerless to stop him as he slashed down her chest. She shrieked, the sound hurt his ears at this close range. He wished she’s shut the hell up.  
Maybe he should just kill her? But he’d come this far...

Digging his strong fingers into the cut, he peeled back skin, tissue, and muscle. Her shrieks subsided into high, pained, panting noises, a lot easier to ignore.  
The vampire jammed a finger between her ribs, hooking one and snapping it free. Now that he had more room, the next one was really easy. She suddenly sagged in his grasp, she’d finally passed out.  
He marveled at her still beating heart, working away futilely in her ruined chest. It didn’t look especially appetizing, but he was going to sample it anyway.

Should he tear it out, or shove his face in and take a bite? Deciding that a living heart would probably be better, he buried his face in her warm chest cavity.  
Her heart was slick and pulsing, seemingly trying to avoid his teeth. He pressed his face in harder. At least with his regular teeth, they couldn’t catch purchase on the throbbing muscle, but once he sank in his fangs he had it, taking a big bite and ripping it free.  
Blood spurted, soaking his face, bathing him. Blood upon blood upon blood. 

He chewed and swallowed his bite, considering the texture, as the blood poured from her chest, wasted. He could feel the large vessels it contained, tough channels spanning the meat. Not too bad overall, very bloody which was good, but he wasn’t all that crazy about the raw meat taste. And it was very chewy, almost tough, and he preferred not having to chew his food.  
He didn’t bother to eat the rest. She was dead now anyway.  
He wasn’t going to bother eating with hearts again, it just wasn’t all that.

****

He ran a lot now, traveling quickly and smoothly between his kills. It wasn’t like he could hitch rides anymore, but he felt like he could run forever.  
He’d never felt so strong and powerful.  
With all his running through the woods, his shoes hadn’t lasted through the overuse, and he’d discarded them long ago when the soles started to flap annoyingly. A barefoot predator, gliding through the forests. Any damage to his feet healed nearly instantly, so he didn’t bother worrying about them.

There was a lot of game in the woods, big stuff like deer and all the way down to little things like mice and moles.  
He knew he could live off game, in fact that had been his life plan not all that long ago. But he didn’t care to even try.  
That kind of game held no appeal to him, he was a hunter and he hunted people, drank the people.  
He was a monster, and he embraced that.  
He knew who his _real_ game was.

A hooded creature, racing through the forest, leaving footprints in places. He’d become a living legend, most likely already famous again, but in an entirely different way.  
He didn’t know for sure, because the language here completely eluded him.  
But he’d been making no effort to disguise his kills or cover his tracks, not since he’d embraced the monster and let it truly run free.  
Surely he was the stuff of legends by now.

He had his methods, only the order of the victims ever changed. Still the kids first, but not always in any particular order, and which parent was last just mostly depended on who was closer.  
It was at a routine kill that things suddenly took a new turn.  
He’d gone through the entire family in his usual fashion, this time ending with the man, when suddenly a group of strange men burst into the room. Where had they come from? He’d been sure there was no one else in the house! Had they been waiting for him? They were on him before he even had time to take in this new situation.

He was so surprised to be grabbed like that, caught off guard, that he didn’t react instantly. They did, four of them throwing him down on the floor while a fifth quickly stabbed a sharpened stake into his heart, forcing it between his ribs, breaking them with sharp, splintering pains. Yet another man, this one with a large knife, loomed over him, apparently intending to cut his head off.  
The pain from his chest was intense, white hot and blazing.  
Pulling his arms free, even wounded like this he was far more than a match for them, he ripped the stake out of his own heart, blood spurting after it, and stabbed it into the knife-wielder’s stomach. That one went down and stayed down.

Jumping to his feet, he picked up the knife and turned to the others, the blood flow from his chest had already slowed to a trickle. One man was yelling something down the stairs. More men were coming, this was an ambush that he’d walked right into! _How_ had this happened? How had he missed it? They’d figured out what he was, and were trying to stop him.  
He counted, there were seventeen of them, including the downed one. Some of the new ones were carrying guns!  
Gripping his knife tightly, the vampire faced them with a snarl.

It was a good thing that he was overfed, his chest wound was completely gone now. His healing powers were truly astounding.  
He moved fast, lashing out with the knife and grabbing with his free hand. He heard the gunshots and felt the bullets tear through him, but they didn’t even slow him down. Yanking hard on one guy’s arm, he tore it free and tossed it aside.  
Stabbing, cutting, and dismembering, Using his teeth only occasionally when it was convenient to tear out a throat, he quickly tore through his attackers, ignoring all they did to him.

He knew for sure now, as long as he could feed he couldn’t be killed. As long as he could drink he would heal enough, despite anything they tried.  
But as he fought on, he could feel that ability fading, feel the wounds for longer and longer.  
As long as he _couldn’t_ feed, he could be worn down and killed. Also good to know.  
But it didn’t matter, he was tearing through them, they didn’t stand a chance. Yelling in a language he didn’t know, still trying to kill him.  
When would they learn?

Finally there was only one left. The man emptied a gun into him, and these wounds weren’t healing fast at all. The actually hurt quite a bit, and he could feel himself bleeding from somewhere deep inside.  
But that was easy to fix, so he grabbed this last one and drank him, marveling at how he could actually _feel_ his wounds close up and disappear.  
But this attack, this fight, had shifted the gears in his brain again, somehow.  
Something had changed again.

The last man empty and dead, the walls riddled with holes from the bullets that had passed through him or missed, the floor littered with so many bodies, bodies piled on bodies, everything washed in red...  
Everything was red, gone red.  
He was a killer, and that’s all he was.  
All he was, and that was good.  
Embracing it fully.

****

Find a house, kill all the people  
Run through the forest, sleep in tombs, sleep in hollows  
Find a house, kill all the people  
Children first, kill all the people

Blood on walls, blood on floor, blood on hands  
Red then dark then cracked  
Better than seeing the scars

Kill all the people, everything is red  
They’re nothing but food, kill all the people  
They only cause pain, stabbing and burning and guns and _screams_  
Kill all the people, kill anyone in the way

Covered in blood, painted with blood, soaked with blood  
Hide in the blood, don’t want to see  
Kill all the people, kill all the children, kill the big ones  
Run through the forest, run to a new house  
Kill all the people, run away

Days are the same, sleep whenever, sleep wherever  
Tombs are good, already dead there  
Don’t need to kill them, sleep with the dead  
Run through the forest, hide in the shadows  
Find a house, kill all the people

What day? No days, no time  
Red, red is all there is  
Blood is red  
Everything, always  
Kill all the people, find another house  
Run to the house, kill all the people

Drink all the blood, throw them away  
Kill all the people, waste all the extra  
Again and again, living in red  
Everything is red, kill all the people  
Kill, blood, drink, dead

****

The radio was on, he hadn’t even noticed it until now. He’d been mostly ignoring music as well as everything else since he’d fled Norway, and completely since he’d been ambushed. It was Nathan’s unmistakable voice that finally cut through the red mist he’d been living in, it was almost like waking up.  
This must be a new album! How long had it been out? He had no way of knowing.  
Approaching the table, the vampire knelt reverently before the radio and listened.  
The music wasn’t right!  
That was Nathan, and Pickles’ distinctive drum patterns, _but that wasn’t Skwisgaar’s guitar_! Where was Skwisgaar, had something happened to him?! Had he killed himself after all?

They had a tv, did they even get the Dethklok Minute here? What time was it on? What time _was_ it even? The vampire flipped through the channels, understand nothing of the language spoken, hoping to find something, anything about them. It was hopeless, he couldn’t even tell the difference between a commercial and regular programming.  
Giving up, he turned it off and finally looked around him, taking in the mess he’d made.  
What was he doing, what had he let himself become?! He was nothing but a monster, he didn’t even know how many people he’d slaughtered. And the kids, all those kids.

But... the horror, remorse, and shame he was waiting for never came. He wasn’t sorry, he didn’t even care. Feeling like he _should_ care changed nothing.  
He could pretend he’d been out of his mind, that he didn’t remember, but truly he remembered _everything_.  
Well, he remembered the all the killing. A lot of the other details were hazy or missing, they hadn’t been important.  
This, Dethklok, _that_ was important!  
He needed to get his shit together enough to find out more.

He had to go back somewhere when he could at least find out what had happened to Skwisgaar, what was going on. But...  
Self awareness was not always a good thing to have. Now was one of those times. He still wore the same clothes that he’d stolen from the first family he’d killed back in Norway, the hood still pulled tight around his face. But now they were tattered and threadbare, riddled with holes from bullets and knives, where he’d caught them on branches as he ran, or they’d just split from age. He had no shoes.  
And all the blood, repeatedly soaked with blood, some his but most not, glued to his skin.  
He was afraid of what he would find under them.

This house was remote, it was probably safe to use their shower before he left.  
In the bathroom, he avoided the mirror. He would have to look eventually, but not until he’d washed off all the blood and dirt that was caked on him. He hadn’t washed since...  
He had no idea how long it had been, how long he’d been on this extended killing spree. He couldn’t trust his recollection of time, not when so many spots were just mostly red and blank, aside from the feeding.  
Steam began to fill the room.  
With trembling hands, the vampire unzipped the hoodie.

He couldn’t look down at himself, still too afraid of what he’d see. Closing his eyes, he peeled the stiff fabric from his body. It tugged painfully where it was _really_ stuck. He hoped he wasn’t pulling his skin off with it. Then the pants, which were easier because they were heavier material. They were stuck in a couple places too, mostly along his upper thighs, and stung as he yanked them free. He’d _definitely_ pulled something off there, he just knew it.  
Naked, still keeping his eyes tightly shut, he felt for the shower curtain and stepped under the spray. Still not looking, he turned, letting it wash over him, hoping to rinse away the worst of it before he opened his eyes. The water stung his skin, at least he _hoped_ he still had skin.  
Turning back, he raised his face into the spray.

Time to look, then he would wash himself properly.  
Holding his hands high in front of him where he’d see them and not the rest of his body, he opened his eyes.  
His hands looked normal again! There was no sign of the scars, they were completely gone!  
Suddenly impatient to see the rest, he checked every bit of skin that he could see. It was all fine! How long had he been healed?! He had no idea, not even a guess.  
How long had he kept living as a monster when there was no need?

His legs were fine too, except he was now missing patches of hair on his upper thighs. That was the ripping he’d felt. Well, far better to lose leg hair than skin, as he’d first feared.  
He did feel a bit stingy all over, almost raw, but that was probably just from being completely filthy for so damn long. Everything seemed fine!  
He scraped the drain with one foot, clearing away the filth that threatened to clog it.  
Standing in the strong spray, becoming clean again, was almost like being reborn. Washing away the creature he’d become, or at least the appearance of it.

But what about...  
Hardly daring to hope, he raised his hands to his head. Somewhat matted but _there_ , he had hair again! Probably as long as it used to be, once he got it all untangled. That wasn’t possible, he was _sure_ he hadn’t been gone long enough for it to grow that much, it had taken years when he’d grown it out before. Well, it was probably some other weird vampire thing, that it could even grow back at all.  
He washed thoroughly, then washed his hair. They had decent hair products here, whatever these brands were. Working with his fingers, he managed to get most of the mats and tangles out, it was indeed as long as he’d thought.

Before even drying off, he wiped the mirror clear.  
His own familiar face smiled back at him, no trace of the monster he’d seen the last time he’d looked. How long ago?  
He only now realize he’d only thought of himself as ‘the monster’ or ‘the vampire’ since that night in Norway, as if his mother had burned away his very identity with his skin.  
But be was back, Toki Wartooth was back.  
He’d been living in the dark side of his mind for a long time now, he wasn’t afraid of it anymore like he’d used to be. But it was time to go back among people.

Well, he should probably stick with being Alex. It didn’t really matter what name he called himself anymore, they were one and the same. Vampire, monster, Alex, Toki...  
Best to not wear Toki’s face, even now, even when he was supposed to be dead.  
Oh, the hazzards of once being famous!  
He was going to have to show some restraint again. It would be hard after killing anyone and everyone for so long, but that was the only way he could go back to pretending to fit into civilization.

Searching the house, he found clothes that fit him decently. Jeans and sweatshirts seemed to be something everybody owned, no matter where they lived. There were even some shoes that fit well enough.  
He found what else he needed, a cell phone, and returned to the bathroom. Alex quite was certain his tricks would still work, but he still needed to know for sure. He held up the camera.  
The screen showed Alex, even though he hadn’t yet consciously switched to being him yet. So he was apparently still defaulting to Alex, even when he wasn’t really thinking about it. That was interesting. Also probably for the best.

Just to see if he even could, he switched to looking like himself. Yeah, it worked. He tried a few other faces, just because he could.  
But he’d lingered her too long already, it was time to go. There was a small mirror that had probably belonged to the woman, he took it, knowing that the temptation to reassure himself that his face was healed would be very great. And besides, she didn’t need it anymore.  
He needed to get out of this house full of death, and get to somewhere where he could find information.

****

Now he’d made it to Germany, mostly by hitchhiking. It was a relief to be able to travel that way again.  
Although he didn’t know the language, he’d seen a fair amount of stuff in English, so hopefully they’re broadcast the Dethklok Minute here. He _had_ to know, he just had to.  
The date on a newspaper surprised him. _Three years_ since he’d left Dethklok, he’d been gone three years?! How was that even possible?  
It was hard to get used to... all this again. Being around people and not killing them, suppressing that monstrous side that he knew was still just under the surface.

There was a music shop ahead, Alex went it. They had the new Dethklok CD, from the date he saw it had been released over a year ago. So he’d probably missed the tour, too.  
Well, the counter guy should know. Alex walked over. “Hi, does you know when the Dethklok tour is?”  
Fortunately, the guy spoke good English. “Kid, you , me, and everyone else wants to know that. Maybe they’re doing it on purpose, that album’s still near the top of the charts even now, but they haven’t even released a single video from it.”  
“Why nots?” Because that wasn’t Skwisgaar’s playing, _that’s_ why.  
The guy shrugged. “Nobody knows.”

****

Alex needed to hunt but wasn’t feeling picky, so he just caught some poor guy out jogging and cut his throat. Just like the old days.  
He’d stolen the knife a couple days ago, if he was going stealth again then he needed to cover his tracks.  
He’d automatically gone for a man, reverting back to his previous thing with not killing women. Despite how many he’d killed since then.  
People were still food, he needed to eat. It was really simple, he just had to be smart about it. Cut don’t bite, cover his tracks, just like before. An easy pattern to fall back into.

The Dethklok Minute wasn’t very informative these days, Alex had managed to catch a few. Mostly it was anti-news, the host just wondering what was going on with them.  
Then, while sitting in yet another park, he just by chance happened to overhear part of a conversation, a name that grabbed his attention.  
_“...Ofdensen isn’t human.”  
“Human or not, enough men can take anyone down.”  
“Well, the meeting is tomorrow, I guess we’ll know soon...”_  
They passed, and Alex followed them from a distance.. The taller one was his target, and the headscarf thing he wore would make him really easy, hide his hair. He just hoped they’d split up.

Finally they did, the extra one going off to the right, and Alex closed in on the other, shadowing him. As the man opened his door Alex was on him, covering his mouth and pushing them both quickly inside. “You scream, I kills you.” As if he wasn’t going to kill him anyway. He checked, the man had an ID badge clipped to his suit. Good. “Where’s the meeting? And whats time?”  
“In the white building behind City Hall, at noon tomorrow! Oh, please let me go!”  
“Sorry, nots an options.” Alex bit this one, he had to. This needed to be a clean kill because he needed that headscarf to hide his hair. Biting was just a lot less messy.

He wasn’t too worried about anyone finding the body soon, as far as they would know the man was still alive. Unless he spoke...  
Sudden laryngitis maybe? If he only spoke in a rough whisper, hopefully nobody would know the difference. Well that was the only idea he had, so it would have to do.  
Now for clothes. Alex went to the dead man’s closet and tried on his suits. They fit pretty good, he’d thought that wouldn’t be a problem. But how to do that scarf? There were spares, so he took one and sat in front of the corpse, trying to copy how it was worn. It took some trying, but he finally thought he was coming close enough. He took the guy’s wallet too.

The next day, dressed in this new identity, Alex went to the special meeting. There was a second door inside, that seemed to be where the important looking people were going. He watched, they just waved their ID badge at a scanner thing, and the light turned green and they went in. Okay, he could do that too.  
Except he couldn’t, no matter how he swiped it, the light stayed red. He’d killed someone who didn’t even have the right clearance! He really needed to know what was being said in there, but no sound escaped the room.  
Fuck, now what?

Fortunately, no one spoke to him. Alex watched the door, he only had one chance so he’d better choose wisely. Somebody with clearance, someone who could answer his questions.  
A little man with a briefcase came out, people with briefcases were always important right? Even if they were full of guts, which this one likely wasn’t.  
He couldn’t match this man, too small, but he had no intention of trying to. The whole tone of the people exiting led him to believe that the plans were set, it was over.  
Now he just needed to know what had been said.

He followed the man, still wearing the other guy’s face. He’d heard him speak English to some lady on the way out, so Alex knew that he’d be able to question him with no problems.  
The man was a walker, he walked all the way home. It wasn’t actually all that far though.  
Gripping his briefcase tightly, he glanced around him and then unlocked his door. Alex waited in the shadows, he had a talent for going unnoticed.  
Darting inside, there were faint clicks as the locks engaged.

Alex decided to try just knocking on the door first, the area was populated, it was daytime, and he didn’t want to straight up break in unless he had to. Hopefully the guy would recognize him as the dead man he was pretending to be. Probably, nobody else there had worn a headscarf.  
Success! The man opened the door and motioned for him to enter, maybe they were friends? Not wanting to give him any chance to react, Alex grabbed him and dragged him into the living room where there was a sturdy chair with arms and four solid post legs. That would be perfect to bind the man to.  
Only problem was, what to bind him with?

How hard could he hit him without doing serious damage? Trying to go easy, Alex punched the guy in the jaw, knocking him out. Hopefully that wasn’t too hard?  
Propping him in the chair, he searched the house for a way to tie him up.  
He found a roll of duct tape, that would do very nicely. Returning to the man, who seemed to be stirring a bit, Alex taped him securely. Arms to the chair arms, with the fingers at the ends. Legs to the legs, and around the torso and the chair back.  
That should do it.

With the man secured in the other room, Alex tried hard to think just how to get the information out of him. Torture, obviously, but what kind?  
He could start by cutting off pieces, fingers or whatever, but the problem with that was the potential of bleeding to death. Unless he cauterized the wounds, of course, but he didn’t think he could handle the smell of burning flesh. He could tie them off somehow, but they’d leak. If the guy held out long enough, he’d leak out to the point of being useless.  
That meant the cutting was out too, same risks.  
How the fuck do you torture someone when you can’t make them bleed?! 

Wandering through the house, looking in closets and drawers, Alex finally tried the garage and found the tools. No, not the saws, and the drill was probably a bad idea too...  
He selected a couple pairs of pliers, a hammer, and a brown bag half full of long nails. After considering, he added a large pipe wrench and headed back in to get to work.  
Hopefully the house was built well enough to greatly reduce sound, he needed the guy to talk so he couldn’t disable his ability to make noise. Alex shrugged, he was hoping to get his information and get out undetected, but if people showed up he could always just kill them all.

Still wearing the dead man’s face, he set his finds on the coffee table, and watched the man’s eyes get very wide at the sight. “You’s going to tells me everything I wants to know. Ups to you how much that hurts. Now, what does you know?”  
“I know everything! And you’re too late, whoever you are, it’s already begun!”  
“ _What_ has begun?”  
“I’ll never tell, you’ll have to kill me first!”  
Was this guy cocky, or just really dumb? “I don’t thinks you understands just how this works...” Alex picked up the hammer.

Psychological torture was also torture, he should probably mix it up some. He reached out and stroked one of the man’s fingers with his own. The guy tried to curl them protectively, but couldn’t due to the way he was taped. “Well I gots to do at least one, so you knows I’s serious.”  
Alex brought the hammer down, smashing the chosen finger.  
The man made a rather horrible sound, but it was strangled like he was trying to be quiet. Well, that was good.  
“I bet that hurts a holy lots, doesn’t it? Maybe you should reconsiders talkings to me.”  
The guy just sort of moaned quietly to himself. This sucked!

Well maybe he just needed more motivation? Alex repeated the process on the rest of that hand’s fingers, asking between each if he was ready to talk. Still the fucker refused, somehow.  
Just to see if it would make any difference, Alex grabbed the smaller pliers and slowly pulled the fingernails from that same hand. The way the smashed fingers twisted and pulled as he did was a bit creepy. He was having to restrain himself, after all the killing he’d been doing he had to be careful not to lose it here. He _needed_ to know. A dead man was no good to him, and if the time was really up, he couldn’t wasting any more hunting someone else with clearance.  
There had to be a more effective way! Taking a break, Alex looked around the house again.

When he came back into the room, he was wearing the face of the man who was likely this guy’s father, his headscarf pushed back. He knew his hair didn’t match and he didn’t care, from the man’s stunned reaction this just might do the trick. He picked up the hammer again, and selected a nail. “I stops when you talks.” Slowly, he began tapping the nail down into the man’s tense thigh. It went in pretty easy until it hit the bone. Alex paused, smiling through some other man’s face and listening.  
The guy wouldn’t even look at him now, just sitting with his jaw tightly clenched and sweating.  
Oh well. Alex raised the hammer and drove the nail partway into the bone.

When that didn’t bring the desired response either, he removed the guys’ shoes, quite a job with his legs taped as they were, and _slowly_ drove a nail beneath the larger toenail on the man’s left foot.  
“You talks yet? The answer was apparently still no, so he did the other big toe as well. There were more toes, but these nails were too big to really work on those.  
He picked the pliers back up and rapped the knuckles of the man’s remaining good hand. The skin spilt, oops, but the bleeding was minimal.  
And the stubborn little fuck _still_ wasn’t talking!

Maybe his teeth? Not _his_ teeth, the man’s teeth. Alex considered the pliers in his hand. No, that would only make it harder for him to talk.  
Instead he made himself look like a woman from the photos, he knew it wasn’t right but his stiff suit jacket would hide a lot of that. Looking up at this new face, the man went even paler.  
Not saying a word, Alex stroked the man’s face with the pliers, poking them at his nose and lips, watching him squirm, pinching his ears.  
The man looked completely terrified, but wasn’t offering any information.  
Yet.

Dropping the pliers to the floor with a careless clatter, Alex picked up the hammer and some more nails. The woman hadn’t worked, so just to see what would happen, he switched to looking like his victim, mimicking him and mirroring his shocked expression. Still no words?  
Alex drove a nail into his right shoulder, into the upper arm bone. Then the same to the other shoulder, making a point to stare into the guy’s eyes the whole time.  
Nails into the kneecaps followed, there was this sick crunch as each nail drove into the bones.  
Retrieving the pliers, he took big pinches of skin all along the torso, twisting violently. Bruises bloomed.

The guy _still_ wouldn’t talk, didn’t he know that he was doomed no matter what? All he could change was how much more pain he felt before he was finally allowed to die.  
This was taking a chance, he _knew_ he couldn’t do him right, but Alex switched to looking like Skwisgaar. “Talks!”  
This had an obvious effect, the man didn’t seem able to take his eyes off him, but still he said nothing.  
“You has _no idea_ what you ams messing with.” Alex picked up the pipe wrench and swung it hard into the guy’s shinbone, shattering it.  
Oh! The man appeared to be attempting to speak!

Switching Charles Ofdensen (why not, Skwisgaar had been pretty effective) Alex showed his teeth for extra incentive.  
Very faintly... “Wait.”  
He bounced the pipe wrench against the palm of his other hand. “You talks, I don’ts hit.”  
“You’re too late, it’s about to begin.”  
“You says it’s already begins earlier!”  
“In that it can’t be stopped, yes.” The guy was wheezing a bit, probably from all the pain. Pain tends to do that.

“They’ve... taken the employees. There’s no one left to fight.” He seemed done, but when Alex raised the wrench he continued. “They have an army... they’re going to execute them all in their castle.”  
“ _When_?”  
“Two... two days. They’re already surrounding it. The castle. Too late... even if you get in, you... you’d just die too.”  
“You lyings to me?!” Alex raised the wrench again.  
“No! I swear... It’s all true. Don’t hurt me anymore!” That seemed to be all the information he had in him.  
“Okays, but you don’ts gets to live either.” Alex bit him, killing him fast.

He had to get back into Mordhaus, he had to warn them! He’d forgotten to ask how many people in that army, but the guy probably wouldn’t have known. And the Klokateers had already been compromised!  
He needed to cover his tracks but didn’t want to waste any time, so he just piled some laundry on the guy and set it on fire, running from the house before the actual body started to burn, before he could smell it. It would have to do.  
Alex headed for the airport, he’d use the first dead man’s identity and credit card, the scarf would hide his hair, and catch the soonest flight going to closest he could get.  
He just might be their only hope.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Changes Parallel- chapter 17  
> Heavy parallels because Toki is in this chapter, he comes home to Mordhaus to tell them the bad news. And then the waiting.  
> Warnings: murder, character death

The pane landed, and Alex quickly made his way out of the airport. Back in the US for the first time in a few years, it felt so strange to be going home. Because really, Mordhaus was the only true home he’d ever had.  
Getting a flight had taken longer than he’d anticipated, it turned out that he’d just missed _all_ the ones that would have sufficed and had to wait for the next set. The window to slip in was quickly closing, if it hadn’t already. He set out walking, keeping a bit off the road. There was no way to really know who the bad guys were, so he was planning to steal a car when he saw a good chance, instead of trying to hitchhike.

Hearing voices through the woods off to his right, Alex approached with caution. But it was just kids, teenagers, swimming in a pond, at least mostly naked. They looked drunk too, good, they wouldn’t be very alert. Clothes were scattered up here where he was, and he picked out some that would fit him. Some poor kid was going to be stuck with no pants.  
A bit further on, he stripped off the dead man’s suit and changed. The boots he’d grabbed, the biggest ones there, were cheap imitation Army style and would probably rub, not that it mattered. The hat he’d grabbed as an afterthought might come in handy if he needed to hide his hair, he didn’t have much of a plan yet. He left the suit in the woods, by the time anyone might find it, it wouldn’t matter.  
Now that he looked a lot less out of place, it was time to steal a car.

The guy was small and skinny, a fat one would be way better. But it had only been two days since his last kill, so hopefully this one would be enough. He didn’t really have time to be picky here, after all.  
He’d seen the car pull around behind the store, and followed it. They were out of sight of the road. As soon as the guy got out, Alex jumped him, cutting his throat and drinking him dry. He left the body where it fell and took the car, he wouldn’t be able to drive in but he could get a hell of a lot closer than he was now.  
There were still a few hours of daylight left, hopefully he still had time.

Driving, paranoid that every car on the road might be some of _them_ regardless of who was behind the wheel, Alex drove as fast as he dared toward home. He couldn’t risk getting pulled over, he didn’t even have any ID and he couldn’t exactly kill a cop (real or otherwise) right on the side of the road.  
The radio was broken, but there probably would have been no news there anyway. Music would have been a welcome distraction though.  
How was he even going to get in?! He had no idea what the situation was there, so it was impossible to make any real plans.  
The miles flew by, and soon he was as close as he dared to drive.

Abandoning the car at the outskirts of Mordland where it couldn’t be seen, Alex knew they were already there. He couldn’t actually _see_ anything or anyone, but he somehow sensed them all the same. Staying out of sight, scanning the distant guard towers, it looked like they were still manned by gears at this point. That was good, that meant he it hadn’t officially happened yet, if they were still keeping up appearances like this.  
There was no way he could make it without being spotted, and he really needed to get inside without raising any alarms. Alex wouldn’t do. Toki might, but that would be showing his hand and he didn’t want that.  
Who did he need to be?

Well, he had a hat. Stopping still out of sight and stuffing all his hair up into his hat, Alex made himself look like Ofdensen. No gear would shoot their boss, right? At least not without hesitation.  
And as he walked past them, not a single shot was fired.  
He did spot some of the army (or whatever) people, deeply hidden, but pretended he didn’t see them. A normal person never would have even spotted them anyway. As tempting as it was to kill these, he knew there were far more, and getting inside was way more important.  
He was the element of surprise, he might even be their only hope.

He knew his way around well, which probably helped convince anyone watching that he was actually Ofdensen, and made it to the gear entrance without being stopped.  
Inside though he stopped to think. These clothes would never pass for the manager in here. If they still kept to roughly the same schedule, the band were likely doing their own things around now. He needed to find Skwisgaar first, hopefully we would be in his room.  
As for _who_ to be though, his only real choice was Silas. He couldn’t hope to pass as any of the others, not here, not with the people who knew them all so well. But he didn’t even know where that guy’s room was, avoiding the real one was going to be pure luck.

Taking off the hat, but carrying it for now, he switched to Sy. Alex didn’t know him very well, so he hoped his version was close enough. There had been no new videos, what if he’d changed his hair?! There was nothing he could do but hope he could pass.  
Good thing he’d once had a habit of slipping out the employee entrance when he wanted to be alone, because now he knew exactly where he was and where to go.  
Up the rarely used service stairs, and he came out into the hallway just down from Skwisgaar’s room. The anticipation was difficult to contain, home again, and to see Skwisgaar...  
But the room was empty.

Well, shit. Alex decided to try the studio, if he wasn’t there then he was going to have to take his chances with one of the others first. And Skwisgaar was the only one who knew, whether he truly believed it or not, that Alex was Toki.  
He could probably convince Nathan, but Nathan was far less predictable in his habits and he didn’t even know where to start looking for him.  
Keeping (hopefully) Sy’s appearance, Alex walked as casually as he could through the halls. There was no way he’d make it undetected, this area was always staffed, he just hoped he could pass well enough. He wasn’t familiar enough with Sy’s mannerisms to reliably copy them (he’d never spent _that_ much time with the guy), and the gears weren’t blind.

Alex’s luck held out until the last turn, as he finally approached the studio, there was a gear coming his way. Did Silas ignore them?! Probably, but he had no idea!  
Pretending as hard as he could that he didn’t even notice the guy as they passed each other, he made it to the studio door. He had a creepy feeling that the gear had stopped to look at him, but if so, looking back would blow his thin cover completely. He knew his hair was too long!  
If Skwisgaar wasn’t in here...

But he was. As Alex quietly opened the door, he could see his blond hair towering over the back of the couch.  
Dropping the Sy look and switching back to Alex (that was probably best for now), he put his hat back on and walked over to where Skwisgaar could see him, but kept distance between them so he could assess the situation.  
Fortunately, Skwisgaar looked delighted to see him, setting his guitar aside and standing. "Alex! You ams back! How's you be gettings in heres?"  
Alex smiled. "I tolds you I would comes back, and I gots my ways. I can goes pretty much anywheres I want."  
"Well I ams glad you cames back to sees me."

The stood, studying each other. Alex wasn’t sure if he should switch to Toki now, or stay as Alex until he’d managed to explain a bit. Skwisgaar had thought he was crazy last time, so he might not believe it now.  
It was so good to see him again though, to be back in the haus, back in the studio, back with Skwisgaar...  
Even knowing how it all had to end, this was where he really belonged, the only place he ever belonged.  
Alex walked over to him, still smiling.

Ofdensen barged into the room, the picture of authority. A curt hand motion stopped the accompanying Klokateer just inside the door. "Skwisgaar, get away from him!"  
"Noes! Even thoughs I was just de crazys, he ams still mine friend!"  
Ignoring Skwisgaar, he faced Alex. "Alex, you're leaving. By force if necessary, and I assure you that you can't take me. I'll defend this band with my life."  
He didn’t bother with hiding his accent now, the time for all that was done. "Don'ts start this, I really don'ts want to fights you." He couldn’t tell if that gear was one who had known Alex or not, but it didn’t really matter.

The rest of the band came in, they must have heard something was up, they had a talent for that. They stopped just inside the studio as well, watching. He could tell they recognized Alex instantly, but weren’t sure what to make of him being back.  
Then Ofdensen grabbed him, obviously planning to take him down. Alex just picked him up and pinned him against the wall, able to hold him there with only one hand.  
The gear stepped out of the soundproofed room into the hall to radio for backup, and Alex pointed at Nathan. "Locks the doors."  
Nathan obeyed, but before Alex could turn back, Ofdensen shot him in the chest. That hurt! But not like he’d never been shot before, and he really couldn’t blame the guy for trying.  
Skwisgaar screamed, no words, just sound.

Alex looked disapprovingly up at the pinned manager. "That's not nice." There was a little blood on is shirt.  
"I demand you put me down!"  
Alex did so, ready to get this damn charade over with. He pulled up his hem, showing his unmarked skin. The band oohed, appropriately impressed by this feat.  
Pickles even leaned for a closer look. "Dude, who the fuck are ya, rally?"  
"Don't talk to him Pickles. He's some kind of shape shifter, I assume.” He tuned back to Alex. “The guards said you looked like me, prove it."

So he _had_ been reported, that wasn’t a surprise. With a shrug, Alex pulled his hair back switched to match the manager. With long hair. He stuffed it in his hat again, not bothering to do it as neatly as before, but good enough for the effect. The band was very impressed!   
"You can do me too? I wanna see!" Sy was curious, the gear he’d passed in the hall, he must have reported something too. Well that explained how the whole band had turned up like that.  
Alex took off the hat, letting his hair back down. He tossed the hat aside, done with it, and switched to looking like Sy. He thought he got it closer this time, with the source material right in front of him.  
Sy grinned in appreciation.

"Oooooh...” Pickles had that bouncy gleeful thing he did going on. “Can ya do me?"  
Alex shook his head, knowing better than to even try. "Nots really, you wouldn'ts looks right. I can'ts change my size and I probablies can't does your hairs. They's close enough to copies, the rest of you's, not reallies."  
Nathan _finally_ brought up the big question. Alex wanted one of them to be the one to bring it up, and Nathan did. "So uh, why do you like, talk like Toki?"  
"Because I ams." Instead of welcoming looks, all he got was skepticism, but he could hardly blame them for that.

Murderface challenged him, "Prove it."  
"How? You’s just thinks it's another tricks." But he switched back to Toki anyway.  
Skwisgaar crashed into him, grabbing and squeezing hard. "You ams! I tells dem but dey won'ts listen!"  
Nathan looked hopeful now. "So do you like, totally turn into whoever?"  
"Noes, people just see what I wants them to." Wow, it would be a lot creepier if he _actually_ became them!  
"So uh, who is Alex? Really? And why is he like, so much younger?"  
He’s wondered that himself, in the beginning. Toki shrugged. "Nobodies really. He's young because I felts like a scareds kid when I makes him, and I was afraids people would knows me. I didn't even know how I was doings it for the longest times."

He might be winning over his old band, but Ofdensen was far from convinced. "Alex, I ran your fingerprints, I know you're not Toki. They weren't even close to a match."  
He actually _hadn’t_ known the deception extended that far. Just another weird thing, like how cameras could see the illusions too. And he shouldn’t be surprised that the manager had found a way to fingerprint him without his knowledge. Toki just shrugged again. "I tells you, you sees what I wants you to."  
"Do you have any possible way of proving any of this?"  
Prove what? That he could change his fingerprints? _How_? Or prove that he was really Toki?

Not knowing what else to do, Toki showed his teeth. "Wants me to bites you?"  
Nathan stepped up before Ofdensen could even reply, holding out his arm. "Yeah. Bite me."  
The manager, of course, thought this was a terrible idea. He was probably right. "Nathan, I really don't-"  
"Shut the fuck up." His eyes were locked on Toki’s, arm out, waiting. There was no fear there.  
Toki bit him gently on the wrist, then let go quickly. Nathan tasted... like home. 

Nathan had felt it too, the way it used to feel. "Oh yeah. It's him."  
That was good enough for Pickles, he clapped him on the shoulder. "Dude, no fuckin' _way_! Toki?! But... yer dead! I mean, ya went an' killed yerself, raight?"  
"Noes. I was plannings to, but... noes. That didn't works out."  
Skwisgaar turned on him with an angry glare. "Whats de fucks dids you _do_?"  
Toki growled back at him. "I saves your fuckings life by getting aways from you. The rest doesn'ts matter."  
Nathan intervened, just like in the old days. "Guys. Don't start this shit again. I'm serious."  
"Sorries." They both backed down.

This was the hardest part yet. He needed to tell them, but he hated to have to tell them. Toki turned to the manager. "We needs to talks, privately." Maybe if they could formulate some ideas first...  
Nathan clearly wasn’t tolerating that plan at all. "Uh-uh. Whatever the fuck you have to say, say it in front of all of us."  
He sighed, giving up. "I's been sittngs in on the Council for the lasts week.” That wasn’t quite the truth but sounded convincing, and easier than admitting to torturing information out of that guy. As brutal as they all were, some of the things he’d done since he left... “They's gots an armies, and they plans to kills you all." That much he was sure of.  
Nobody said anything, just incredulous. 

Finally, Ofdensen spoke. "That's impossible, if there was anything like that planned I would have gotten word of it. And we have a fine army of our own here, surely we're more than a match for them."  
"Noes. Yous lost your armies, they won'ts fight. This place is alreadies surrounded, I barely makes it through. All you's got is me."  
Skwisgaar came back to his side, standing close. "Ams you goings to stays dis time?"  
That had been decided the moment he set foot back in Mordland, it was the choice he’d made. "I's never leavings again."

The manager caught the double meaning, as Toki had known he would. "You asks me once if I would dies for Dethklok, my answer hasn'ts changed."  
"How long do we have?" Ofdensen was all business, under any circumstances.  
"Don'ts know for sures, a few days?” He knew the trap closed very soon, probably already had, but his informant hadn’t known the actual attack date. “Does we have anywhere here that the hood guys don'ts have keys to, somewhere safes?"  
"Are you absolutely sure we can't make it out?"  
He’d only slipped through because they thought he was the manager, there was no way could all of them get out. "Ja, I comes from out there. If onlies I'd got heres sooner..."

Ofdensen accepted this with a nod. "Alright, my quarters. They're secure, the Klokateers don't have access, and I have a large supply of food there."  
"What's you gots for weapons?" Whatever happened, anything they could get their hands on would help, or at least make them feel slightly less helpless. Trying to reach the armory was surely out of the question already, they were limited to what they had at hand.  
The manager mentally took stock. "I've got an AK with a full 60 round clip, but no spares. Other than that... this handgun, and a couple swords. Are any of you carrying weapons?"   
Toki had his latest knife, and of course Murderface had one too, as always. Nobody else had anything that could count as a real weapon.

Pickles put an arm around Sy’s shoulders and offered an explanation, since the poor guy seemed completely confused. "Dude, I know yer kinda lost here, so I'm gonna fill ya in. Toki's a vampire, thet's why he left in tha first place.” Toki waved apologetically when Sy glanced over at him. “An' he can do sahm freaky shit apparently, an' all hell is ‘bout to cahm down on our heads. Sahrry yer caught up in this, but... Shit happens, I guess. Ya never know, maybe we'll make it. Dethklok has survived sahm crazy shit in tha past."  
Silas just nodded, not looking very reassured at all.  
Pickles patted him on the back, then went to his drum kit and started breaking it down.

Nathan was confused, there didn’t seem to be time for... Whatever. "What the hell are you doing, Pickles?"  
"These pipes are super hard, ya can beat the fuck outta sahmbody with ‘em." They were nearly impossible to bend.  
"Oh. Cool, give me one." Beating people sounded good.  
Pickles stuck them in a guitar case to carry them secretly, and they were ready to move. Toki switched back to Alex, at least that was a face some of the gears knew. He didn’t want them to know who he really was. He pulled some of his hair forward, to hide the bullet hole and blood on his shirt. The band didn’t even blink, at this point.  
Ofdensen nodded to them all. "Let's goes now, before they can stops us."

Security was waiting in the hall as they exited, so the quick thinking manager tried to throw them off. "Come along Alex, and we'll discuss putting you back on the payroll. Then you can go hang out with the guys."  
Walking next to Ofdensen like the assistant he’d pretty much once been, the band following behind, they walked right past the security that had gathered in the hallway.  
Toki could feel their stares focused on them, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. What if they attacked now, right here? He could take them, of course, but no without revealing himself as something more than human.

There were just too many of then, a full security squad. Armed and hooded.  
Alex kept waiting for a word, an alarm, a bullet in the back. Whatever might happen. Walking in the front beside Ofdensen, the band following helplessly behind, potentially in the line of fire.  
Were these real gears, or people from outside posing as gears? Without doing a brand check, it was impossible to tell, and that would of course arouse suspicion.  
Better to keep walking, keep pretending, and not look back.  
No one stopped them though, and they made it with no problems.

Toki had never been on Ofdensen’s private quarters before, and from the way the others were looking around, neither had they. It was nice. On the plain and functional side, but nice. He had a couple rooms too, at least there were doors, and even a kitchen of sorts they could see from here.  
It was bigger than any of their rooms, but then, they did have the entire haus. The door was different too, backed with heavy steel and very efficient looking locks.  
Ofdensen gestured apologetically. "I only have two bedrooms, but the couch folds out. We'll have to make do."  
The shuffled around like caged animals, poking at stuff, checking over their new environment.

The manager brought in the chairs from the kitchen, so there’d be enough seating for all of them. The sat, Toki, Nathan, and Skwisgaar on the couch, Murderface in the recliner, and the manager, Pickles, and Silas in the chairs.  
"Now Toki, tell me everything you know about this."  
Shit, where to even start? "It's kinds of a long stories." Skwisgaar leaned against him, and Toki put an arm around his shoulders, giving no fucks what anyone else thought. He put his free hand on Nathan’s knee, it was so good to be back, even for a limited time.  
"I need to know, explain the best you can."

"Okays. I was in Europe when I hears the rumors, that's why it took me so long to gets here. They said that scarys guy was goings to kill Dethklok, so I goes to that Council thing and listens." And couldn’t actually get in, and had to force the information from someone who could...  
Ofdensen was rightfully skeptical. "How did you even get in?"  
"That's the easies part, I just picks one and follows him homes, kills him and takes his clothes. Then all I has to do is nots talk." That much was true anyway.  
"And?"  
"They's got to our guys somehow, I misses that part. They's not going to help the bad guys, but if they tries to helps us, they dies. Wish we coulds hear them."

"We can. This is a master intercom, we can listen to most anywhere." The manager went to a control panel on the wall, pressing a few buttons.  
There didn’t seem to be much going on, it was oddly quiet at the moment.  
What if it had all been a huge misunderstanding?   
Or, more likely, what if the haus was already taken?  
Ofdensen left it on, in case anything of importance happened to be said.

There were moire immediate issues at hand. "Scho where do we shleep?"  
"Oh.” He looked around, as if taking count. “One of you can share my bed, the other bed is big enough for three, and the couch can hold two. You guys work it out."  
Murderface spoke first. "I want the couch.” After a pause, he pointed to Sy. “He can sleep with me,"  
Skwisgaar claimed next. "Toki ams stayings wit me, we takes de bed. And Nat'ans too, ams fines." He looked at them, they nodded in agreement.  
Pickles shrugged, he was good wherever and not bothered by being last. "Well then, I guess ya gat me. Now what's ta eat around here?"

Food, yes that was an issue. At least for _one_ of them... “Everybody listen up! The milk and the ice cream are Toki's, I don't want anyone else eating or drinking them. Do you understand?” The mostly looked confused, so he elaborated. “We did tests a long time ago, milk and things that are mostly milk are the only thing besides blood that will do Toki any good to eat."  
Nobody argued with that!   
Toki knew just how very little good those things would actually do him, but didn’t mention it. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that anyway.  
As far as everyone else was concerned, there seemed to be plenty of food. He even had a pretty well stocked chest freezer in there.

****

That night, Toki lay in the manager’s spare room, between Nathan and Skwisgaar. It felt so incredibly good to be there with him that he could hardly bear it.  
Just briefly, for old times’s sake, he nipped their fingers, sucking on them together. Not long, he couldn’t take it, those old feelings, and knew they both felt it too.  
 _This_ was love. Fuck al that other imitation crap and pretending.  
This was where he belonged. 

Curling his back into Nathan, he pulled Skwisgaar closer and kissed him, it was desperately returned.  
 _Fuck_ he’d missed this so much!   
No one else had ever affected him this way, only Skwisgaar. Toki kept his teeth safely away, but kissed back with all the pent up emotions he had.  
He could feel, like with drinking, everything that Skwisgaar felt toward him. He pulled him tighter, sucking at the tongue deep within his mouth.

Nathan shifted. “Kissing? Really?”  
They broke apart, a bit guilty, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.  
“No. No, it’s okay. I understand.” Nathan curled tighter around Toki, spooning him, and reached his arm across to hold Skwisgaar as well. “Go ahead, don’t let me stop you.”  
“You sures you’s okay with this?”  
“Yeah, Toki. Don’t, you know, worry about me.” He squeezed them tighter. “Skwisgaar... Fuck, it’s all over, isn’t it? Screw the rules, they were stupid anyway.”

Skwisgaar reached across Toki too, resting his hand on Nathan’s side. “You ams not feelings left outs?”  
“No, I don’t want to kiss you guys. I’ll just... hold you.” His voice was the tiniest bit unsteady. “Pretend I’m keeping you safe.”  
“We loves you, Nathan.” Sandwiched there between them, Toki had never felt so loved in his whole entire life.  
“Uh, you too.” Nathan muttered. He wasn’t good at this stuff!  
“Yous three.” Skwisgaar added from the other side, before going back to kissing Toki.

That proved it beyond a doubt, what Toki already suspected. They was fully aware of just how bad this situation was.  
There was no way, Nathan especially, that they’d ever say that otherwise.  
“Toki?” Nathan sighed in his ear. “It’s good to have you back. Even if this can’t possibly end well.”  
Toki had long known that his love killed, but this time, just maybe this time, it would save.  
Eventually they all slept, still entwined.

****

The next day, everyone was trying to psyche them selves up and prepare. Breakfast was a help yourself affair, the band mostly going for the easy stuff like waffles and toaster pastries. They hadn’t thought the manager was the type to keep crap like this around, but apparently he wasn’t a big fan of actually making breakfast either.  
This was good, it was shit they knew how to deal with. There was cereal too, but they didn’t want to eat it dry (yet) and were saving the milk in case Toki wanted it later.  
Toki, of course, ate nothing.

Skwisgaar joined him on the couch after he ate, just sitting beside him. The others were still lingering in the kitchen area, talking among themselves or actually cleaning up their dishes.  
“Skwisgaar, why’s you not writings or playings lead anymores?” Toki had been wondering that ever since he heard that song, way back in the house of the dead.  
Skwisgaar just shrugged. “I jus don’ts care anymores. So I lets him does it, he stills got de passions. Music needs dat passions to be goods, and he dids jus fine.”  
That made sense, though it was a bit hard to assimilate this Skwisgaar with the old perfectionist control freak one.

“I gots another questions.”   
“Ja, Toki?” He leaned over, resting his head on Toki’s shoulder.  
“After the tours, when we’s was in the copters, how dids you sees me? Whats did you sees?”  
Skwisgaar straightened back up with a frown. “Honestlies? I tink I really was de crazies. Was kinds of like de double visions ting, buts in one places. Sometimes dere was noting but Alex, sometimes you was almosts Toki buts nevers quite alls de ways.”  
“I wanteds you to sees me, Skwisgaar. I wanteds so bads to comes home and stays. But I was scared the others would sees too...” He shook his head apologetically. “I’s sorries I makes you think you’s crazy. I didn’ts even know how I was doesing the looks thing back thens.”

“Well I sees you perfectlies clearly now.” Skwisgaar raised one hand and traced Toki’s features with a long finger. “Everyting ams exactlies where it ams supposeds to be.”  
Toki twitched a bit, the tracing tickled! “You always tells me mine face looks all funny.”  
Skwisgaar laughed. “Ja, it does! But dis ams what you’s supposed to looks like.” He dropped his hand. “Tings hasn’t been de sames witout you’s around.”  
“Nots for me eithers.” 

A bit later on, Silas approached Ofdensen. "You said you have swords? I'm rusty but I've had a little training, can I have one?"  
The band knew he had at least some martial arts experience, he’d shown them some of the things he knew back when he’d first joined them, but the request was still a surprise.  
The manager went into the other room, digging in the closet, and came back with a pair of those fake wooden practice swords. He tossed one to Sy, who caught it. "Let's practice then, show me what you can do."  
They sparred, back and forth in the limited space, the sticks clacking sharply with every hit.

Toki watched, knowing nothing about this kind of fighting. Was there anything in it that he could use? Some of the stances looked useful.  
But he fought with a knife, not a sword, and he didn’t have much finesse. He just cut anyone who got close enough, that was his style.  
The way they shifted their weight as they moved though, that was interesting. Probably would help you not slip, when things got bloody. The rest looked pretty complicated though.

"Come on Silas, this won't be a polite fight! Just come at me!" Ofdensen gloated him on.  
Sy shifted, increasing his speed and doing his best to force the manager back under his advance. The others had briefly considered asking for a turn, but changed their minds now. There was real skill involved here!  
Finally they stopped, and Ofdensen looked pleased. "We'll practice more, but yes, I'll gladly give you a sword."  
They leaned the practice sticks in the corner, no need to put them away.

Toki didn’t really know Sy, so he for the most part was just ignoring him, but he would protect him too, as part of the band. For both Dethklok _and_ Planet Piss, because Murderface might want to make another album someday.  
And Murderface liked the guy, he could tell. Not _that_ kind of liked, just friendly liked. That was good, he needed a pal.  
It sucked that the poor dude had gotten caught in the teeth of this machine with the rest of them, but oh well shit happens.

The rest of the day passed far too slowly, with no sign of action. The intercom too, was oddly quiet.  
They tried the tv, of course, but it seemed that the feed had been disconnected. This was their first real confirmation of just how very wrong things were outside this room.  
Skwisgaar stayed close to Toki, keeping in actual contact as much as possible although he didn’t try to kiss him out here where everyone else could see. Leaning, touching, even holding his hand. No one said a word about it.  
Toki was just happy to soak up as much affection as he could, wanting the contact just as badly.

The manager didn’t even have any movies. It seemed that he must use the same streaming service that they all did. That sucked, watching a movie would have made the wait pass faster. He _did_ have a few old VHS tapes of 80's movies, Pickles found them in the back of the closet, but no means of playing them. Just sentimental value or whatever.  
Toki was fine, his life had been extremely boring at times and he was happy just to be here with all of them, but he could tell the boredom was wearing on the others.  
Later, Ofdensen cooked dinner again.

****

They were all sitting around in towels, while Ofdensen washed everybody’s clothes. Fortunately he had a washer and dryer in his quarters, because none of them had any chance to grab a change of clothing before they’d holed up in here.  
They’d all showered too, of course.  
Ofdensen had offered some of his clothes, but he owned very little casual wear beyond sweats and a few t-shirts, and they’ve voted to just wait til their own clothes were clean again. Besides, it wasn’t like they didn’t all sit around in towels on a semi-regular basis anyway, or at least they’d used to. No big deal.

A crackle and faint voices distracted everyone, and they turned to the speaker on the wall. Finally, they managed to hear a brief exchange over the intercom, as a couple gears walked past one of the mics.  
 _“They’ve got my family, I’ll kill you myself before I let you interfere.”  
“We promised to die for them.”  
“Yeah WE. Not my fucking family. Dethklok is already dead, they just haven’t stopped breathing yet.”  
“You’re right.”_

So it was all true, it was all real, and it was all almost over now. _Why_?! What had they ever done to deserve this?! It wasn’t fair!  
They were just a band, it wasn’t they’re fault they were so damn popular! Kill the stupid fans instead!  
But it seemed that death was coming for them, it was only a matter of when.  
The waiting was the hardest part.  
But they waited, because what choice did they even have?

****

Toki waited until all the other were asleep, the got up and went into Ofdensen’s room. He was still awake, though Pickles wasn’t. Toki sat on the bed beside him, there was no point trying to soften the blow. "We's both going to die, you knows."  
The manager only nodded, sitting up and putting his feet on the floor. "Yes, I'm aware of that. But if we can save them, then it will be worth it. Do you think they know?"  
"They knows.” He was very sure of it, he knew them. “They's just tryings to ignore it as longs as they can, can'ts blames them."  
"Do we have a chance at all here? I am of course willing to die for them, but it would be nice to know it won't be all for nothing."  
Without even knowing exactly what they were up against? He had no idea. "I don'ts really know."

Ofdensen looked resigned, and also unsurprised.  
There was something that Toki had long since been wondering. “Why dids you trusts Alex so much?”  
“I don’t know. I know that’s not an acceptable answer, but I truly don’t know. I _shouldn’t_ have, not without reason.” The manager shook his head. “I question my judgement, in retrospect.”  
“Maybe you knows I was me?”  
“No, I proved that you weren’t.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, as he often did when feeling overwhelmed. “That did cross my mind, yes, but I disproved it.”

“I knows Skwisgaar was seeings through me, to me, whatevers, some of the times when we was in his rooms. I worries maybe you dids too.”  
“No, never. Do you really think I would have ordered you killed if I’d had any doubts?”  
He actually hadn’t thought of that angle. “Ja, goods points.”  
“I’m glad they failed. Even if we won’t be so lucky this time around.”

They sat together in silence for a bit, these two who were probably the band’s only hope for surviving.   
The odds, even if they didn’t know exactly what they were, were stacked high against them. They were both living on borrowed time, and there was nothing to be done about that.  
Ofdensen sighed. "Toki? I'm sorry I shot you."  
"You's just doing your job, no harms done." One bullet hadn’t done enough damage to make any real difference anyway.

But he wasn’t done. "There's something I've been wondering about though. I've watched all media for any sign of you and found nothing. How are you killing undetected?"  
That was almost funny, but it was good to know he’d been so successful at covering his tracks when he’d been trying to. "Withs my knife. I cuts them instead of biting, most of the times, cuts the ones I do bites to cover it up. Dump then in the bathtubs and it looks like suicide, leaves them somewhere and it looks like hate crimes."  
"Hate crimes?" Ofdensen seemed a bit confused by that one.  
Toki shrugged. "Because lots of them is gays."

Of course, later on in Norway and what was probably Russia, he’d killed very carelessly. But it seemed that he hadn’t been big news. Well in Norway, his mouth was so damaged that he’s ripped them up instead of biting cleanly, leaving doors open behind him when he left, easy to blame on a wild animal. They’d probably blamed a wolf or something.  
And in Russia, well that was just a country to kept its business to itself. That was the only explanation he could think if, he’d gone full vampire legend there. Well, with the messes he left behind there, all the wasted blood, maybe some of it had also been blamed on an animal?  
Probably not.

****

 _Another_ day passed, this was taking a lot longer than he’d expected! Toki was getting really worried. He knew how he worked, the farther he was from a feeding, the less he could heal, the easier he would be to kill. Every day, the number he’d be able to take was diminishing.  
He needed blood already, but he couldn’t take theirs. He knew how that worked, to take enough to make any real difference he’d have to weaken them, they’d take weeks to regain full strength. There just weren’t enough here to safely feed on!  
He really didn’t want to eat them anyway.

He’d drank or ate all the milk products, even the cheese. It wasn’t doing enough good to even count, but he hid that, pretending he was fine.  
Even if, _even if_ he were to drink from all them, it still wouldn’t be enough. It was killing that gave him his real strength, and killing one of _them_ was so not even an option.  
The hunger was getting bad now, but he knew he wouldn’t hurt them. He had control of it.  
But how much longer?!  
What were those people waiting for?!

****

The manager had fried up a bunch of chicken. With feeding this many people, supplies were starting to get low, but so far they were still okay.  
Feeling desperate to eat _anything_ at this pont, Toki grabbed a couple pieces and ate them.  
Skwisgaar was thrilled, because he just didn’t know any better. “Toki! You ams eating food!"  
"I's just trying to pretends." He was being fucking stupid, wasting their food like that. He _knew_ it did him no good at all! It might still be days yet, better to let the ones who _could_ eat continue to do so.  
Mad at himself, he went and sat on the couch, waiting for them to finish.

Nathan soon joined hm there. “Hey. What’s wrong?”  
“What _isn’ts_ wrong?!” They were all going to fucking die because the bad guys waited too long and he was losing effectiveness by the day... He grabbed his hair, rocking a bit in frustration.  
“Hey. Here.” Nathan held out his wrist. “Always used to help you calm down.”  
“No.” He knew he couldn’t, that belonged to a different time, a time that was long over.  
“Toki, bite me!” Nathan shook it in his face.  
“No!” He batted the arm aside and ran out, hid in their room to get himself together, shutting the door behind him.

If only... Well, ‘if only’ was pretty much the story of his life.  
Things had been so simple back then! Even after he’d gone and fucked himself and his band all up with his drunken stupidity, things had still been so comparatively simple.  
Those days when he’d nipped Nathan anytime he needed comfort. It all seemed another lifetime ago.  
He paced. _Pull it together_ , he couldn’t lose it, he had to be strong for them.  
He _had_ to.

****

Toki had known that sooner or later someone was going to ask, but it was the manager who finally brought it up. "Toki? When did you last eat?" The others had gone to sleep already again, just the two of them left in the kitchen.  
There was no point in lying. "Six days now, I was in a hurry to gets here. I didn't thinks they would takes this long."  
"It weakens you though, doesn't it, being hungry?"  
"Ja, buts I can'ts help that. Maybe I cans catch somebody walking by heres, kills them?" A gear would do nicely, he just needed a kill so very badly. Once he’d considered that stealing, wrong. Now it didn’t matter, he’d eat anyone he could gets his hands on. Well, anyone _other than_ these six that he was here to protect.

But the manager shook his head sadly, "What we've little been hearing lately has only come from the outside mics, it seems that the Haus itself has been emptied."  
“Well, fucks.” He didn’t doubt that information, even though it all sounded the same to him, Ofdensen had no reason to lie. Toki sagged a bit, feeling hopeless. There weren’t even rats in here! This was terrible news, but there was nothing to be done about it. He gave a resigned sigh. "I guess I just has to deals with it then."  
"There are enough of us, if you drink from us all." Clearly, the manager had been thinking about this too. That must be why they were having this conversation, he’d wanted to put the idea out there.

He’d already gone over that possibility, no there _weren’t_ enough, but was too tired to explain the math. "Noes! I can'ts weaken any of yous, I won'ts. They's going to haves to fight, there's no ways we's going to be able to takes them alls."  
"You’ve thought it out then.” Ofdensen fortunately didn’t try to argue, just accepted it. “I wish we knew how many we're even up against. Well, I suppose they'll tell us soon."  
Toki wished that too, the not knowing and the waiting were the hardest parts. Leaving the manager to his own thoughts, he went back to his bed, crawling into his place between his bandmates, snuggling down into their sleepy arms, trying to soak up every bit of contact he could while he was still able.

****

Toki was on the couch again, where he tended to sit, when Skwisgaar sat beside him, looking thoughtful. Not the good kind of thoughtful. "Toki, I knows you ams needing to drinks. I has been thinkings, and I wants you to drinks me, kills me."  
No, no, _no_! That was too horrible to even consider! "NOES! Everything I's done was to saves you!" _Everything_...  
But Skwisgaar had been building his argument. "You knows I can'ts fight for shits, and I ams not wantings dem to dies trying to protects me. Besides, I's been killing myself slowlies for years, I don't gots much left anyways. If I ams goings to die, at least lets me be choosing how, lets me help save dem. Dey needs yous to be strongs, it ams alls I can does."

Skwisgaar _was_ in bad shape, he’d been able to taste it in that brief taste he’d taken. He’d tried to tell himself that it might be Nathan, he’d bitten them together and he was the one with the history of liver problems after all, but now he knew the truth. Skwisgaar had long since abandoned he idea of a quick death for a slow one, and had been steadily working toward it.  
But still, he couldn’t do it couldn’t bear to even consider it. Toki shook his head, and pulled out of Skwisgaar’s needy embrace.  
No, it was too much... way too much to ask. There _had_ to be another way!

Then the intercom crackled to life, sending unfamiliar voices into the room. People passing a mic...  
 _"How did they pick this number anyway?"  
"Well these bastards have been very lucky all these years, so we needed enough to be sure. It was decided to send 50 for the lawyer, and 10 for each of them."  
"And the other two hundred men?"  
"Insurance, enough to kill them all three times. We'll give ‘em until nightfall. If they don't come out by then, we'll burn ‘em out.”_

_“How will they even know?”  
“They know. That crazy lawyer has this whole place wired, he’s probably listening right now. Hey Ofdensen! You’ve got until dark to die fast instead of being burned alive! You think you’re so clever, hiding away in a room we can’t get a key to. We know exactly where you are, and we have you trapped.”  
“Did you tell our soldiers to avoid head shots? We’re supposed to bring them back, and he’ll want them recognizable.”  
“They’ve been told. I’m going to collect your head myself, Lawyer!”  
The men laughed._

_Burning_ , they would burn them out! Toki fought down flaring panic at those words, he _couldn’t_ burn again! He’d fight, he’d die, that he accepted, but he couldn’t stand the thought of being set on fire again! All he could do was try to hide his terror of those words. They didn’t know about that, he wasn’t going to tell them about that, how much it hurt, how he’d been able to smell himself, the way his skin had twisted and pulled after...  
 _Get it together, don’t let it show_... He was supposed to be the strong one here...  
Fighting that down hard, he brought himself back to the present. Distracted by the news, no one seemed to have noticed his distress. Good.

But now they all knew, the game was over. Three hundred soldiers? It was impossible, they were finished.  
Ofdensen shook his head in wonder. "Fifty? They give me far too much credit.” He turned to Toki. “Should we even try? How many do you think you can take?"  
"We has to tries, we gots no choice.” It was clearly that or _burn_. “And I don'ts know, I'll just kill as manies as I can until they stops me. Probablies not enough, but..." He shrugged, knowing there was no way he’d be able to make any truly significant dent in those numbers.  
"And if you _weren't_ weak, how many then?" The manager had some idea how he worked.  
He answered honestly, with his best estimate. "At least halfs, probably lots more."

Skwisgaar took his hand, holding it tight. Toki squeezed back, still trying to hide his thoughts. They were all going to die, and soon. Still better than burning....  
Skwisgaar’s words cut into his mind like a knife. "Toki. You ams their only chance, and you needs me to does it."  
He knew what he meant, and knew he was all too right. He _was_ their only chance, but he was no good without blood, more specifically, a kill.  
"Please Toki. Takes my life?"  
They would all die, or maybe some would live. They were out of time and options. Helplessly, eyes shut tight, still squeezing Skwisgaar’s hand, Toki nodded.

They only had mere hours left now, the time had seemed to drag before but now it raced madly forward, way too fast. He didn’t want to do this!  
Skwisgaar kissed him, not caring that everyone was watching them, then pulled back to look him in the eye. "Will you does it slow? I wants to feels you as longs as it ams possible."  
Toki couldn’t help it, he started to cry. He urged Skwisgaar into his lap, they way they used to, and kissed him again. "Untils you goes to sleep. Then I makes it quick, so you doesn't suffer."  
Skwisgaar tried to smile, gazing down at him, crying too. "I's going to be wit yous for de rest of mine life."  
"Don'ts make me laugh, this hurts too much.” He kissed him again, just wanting to put it off a bit longer... “If there's anythings on the others side, I'll see yous soon."

With one arm wrapped tight, never breaking eye contact, Toki raised one slim wrist to his mouth and sank in his teeth. It _hurt_ him so bad to do it...  
Skwisgaar smiled lovingly down at him, tear stains on his cheeks.  
Toki drank, as slowly as he could manage, making no attempt to control his tears. The feelings it created between them as he drank were still as strong as ever, nobody else had ever come close to this. Only Skwisgaar, always.  
He wanted to stop while there was still time, refuse to do this!  
But it had to be.

The others were completely silent, watching.  
Pickles was crying openly but quietly, tears streaming.  
Nathan was scowling as hard in an effort to hold back his own tears.  
Murderface was sniffling, but also managing to hold back.  
Silas looked stricken, overwhelmed by it all.  
And even Ofdensen, the robot, was clearly affected.

Finally Skwisgaar sagged, unable to hold himself up any longer.  
Toki had been monitoring his heart rate, and knew he was at theat critical point, there was no turning back now, it was too late for that.  
It was done, except for the very last bit.  
Toki released the wrist, and kissed Skwisgaar’s now slack lips softly, one last time. "Goodbyes Skwisgaar."  
Then he shifted his mouth to that throat and bit, drinking the rest, feeling like his heart was breaking into a million pieces as he swallowed.  
It was over.

Not even looking at them, Toki stood, cradling Skwisgaar’s body and carrying him into the room they’d shared, laying him on the bed and arranging his hair so he looked like he was sleeping. Wiping away his tears, the time for all that had passed, he went back out and addressed Nathan. "Makes sure we gets a Viking funerals? Burns us together."  
"Toki, you're not dead yet."  
"I's about to be, close enoughs. Promise me you will does it?"  
Nathan nodded, and then pulled him into a tight hug. "Uh, yeah. If at all fucking possible, we'll do it. I promise."  
"Thanks you Nathan." He squeezed back.

Only a few short hours now, if that, and it would all be over. One way or the other. Skwisgaar’s sacrifice had given him his strength back, he was a s ready as he could ever hope to be. It would have to be enough, for these still standing, it would have to be enough.  
Pickles joined their hug, he was still crying.  
After a moment, Murderface stepped in too, reaching tentatively around them.  
Finally, Silas and even Ofdensen joined them, all standing together for one last time.  
The clock had run out.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Changes Parallel- cahpter 18  
> Heavy parallels because Toki is in this chapter, though it ends far short of the other because, well, he didn’t exactly make it very far into this one.  
> Toki died off screen in Changes, not so here.  
> The last part forever, it’s finally over now. I hope the mental trauma was worth it.  
> Warnings: Murder, character death

They’d all sat in silence for a bit, a moment of silence, nothing really left to say. Skwisgaar’s absence burned like a spotlight, impossible to ignore.  
Toki sat on the couch, leaning forward with his face in his hands. He was aware of Nathan beside him, but grateful that he didn’t attempt to offer comfort. There was no comfort here, not for him. Never again.  
Ofdensen shifted in his chair and cleared his throat, getting their attention.  
Toki straightened up, and they all turned expectantly to the manager, listening.

"Toki, I've been thinking, I should go out there first. They seem to consider me somewhat supernatural, it will throw them off. Then you can try to get the others through."  
The manager had an excellent point, so Toki nodded. "You's right, you should goes first, get me some of your clothes. I gots to get rid of lots of them befores you even tries to make it."  
Ofdensen nodded curtly, understanding, and went to retrieve an outfit. His shoes were likely too small, Toki had big feet, but the stolen boots he wore would probably do.  
He grabbed just a shirt and pants, since he had no intention of fighting in a jacket and tie himself, he certainly wasn’t going to put them on for this.

Toki changed, the fit was actually very close. He tucked the shirt in and put his boots back on, then made himself look like the manager.  
Ofdensen studied him, the illusion was very good except for one thing that completely ruined it. "Oh Toki, your hair..."  
Toki shrugged, it didn’t matter anymore. "Cuts it off."  
He nodded. "I have scissors."   
Pickles volunteered to do the job, and Ofdensen fetched him the scissors.

The others sat on the couch, watching, and Pickles urged the two Ofdensens to sit in a couple of the chairs, side by side so he could compare. He worked quickly, constantly glancing back and forth, trying to get as close as possible. Toki’s hair pooled around his feet, oddly reverting to it’s real, lighter color as it was cut.  
When he was done, Toki ran his hands through his short hair, it felt really weird. He hadn’t had it actually cut this short ever in his memory, of course excluding the time it was all burned away. The others were nodding in approval though, so he must look convincing enough. “Thanks, Pickle.”

The time was up. Ofdensen handed Toki the AK-47. "They're all going to shoot at you, you know."  
"Ja. Don'ts worry, I can takes it." For a while anyway, until they managed to inflict enough damage to use up Skwisgaar’s blood and wear him down. He knew how it would go, he’d have no real opportunity to stop and feed once the fight started, so it would only be a matter of time. He would just have to kill as many as he could as fast as he could, cut their numbers as much as possible, and hope that Ofdensen would be able to whittle them down even further when he was through.   
He would do his best, that’s all he could do now. He wouldn’t let Skwisgaar’s sacrifice be in vain. He stuck his knife in his pocket, he’d switch when the gun was empty.

They were ready.  
Ofdensen gave the pistol to Pickles, a reliable shot, planning to fight with a sword only. He gave Silas the other sword.  
Pickles retrieved the drum pipes he’d brought, and selected one for himself. Nathan took two, and Murderface took one, and drew his knife. There was a pipe left, but none of them took it, Toki intending to use his free hand to rip off as many limbs as he could, and the other two probably thinking it would interfere with their swordsmanship.  
This was goodbye, but nobody wanted to actually say the words.

So recently, he’d been a nearly mindless killing machine. Toki knew he needed to embrace that again, the monster he’d tried to leave behind, and unleash it on the waiting forces. He’d never fought large numbers like this, but it wouldn’t matter once he started killing.  
He just had to keep it together a little longer, he needed to make as many shots count as he possibly could, cut their numbers as far as possible, and then, only then, could he fully let himself go.  
It was there, he could feel it just under the surface.  
He was ready.

Toki turned to Ofdensen, meaning every word he said. "Don't you dare comes out until they kills me. Lets me gets as many as I can firsts."  
The manager frowned at this instruction. "How will I know? How can I be sure?"  
He grinned, showing his teeth, something feral already creeping into his smile. "That's easy, you comes out when the screaming stops."  
"Military men usually don't scream."  
"Militaries men usually don'ts get ripped aparts by a vampire eithers. They's goings to scream, trusts me." Leaving them, not looking back, Toki went out the door.

****

They weren’t _right_ outside the door, that was good. Ofdensen’s room wasn’t far off one of the larger common rooms, and it looked like the bulk of the forces were gathered there.  
Toki pulled the door quickly shut behind him and rushed toward them, wanting to do as much killing as possible in the more open area, not wanting to create a wall of bodies for the others to navigate. Far enough, he steadied the gun, aiming for the massed forces.  
He was quite certain that they took him for the manager.  
He’d barely squeezed the trigger when they returned his fire.

Surprise in being rushed had let him get this far, but now they wasted no time trying to take him down.  
Toki held the gun steady and aimed as well as you can aim a fucking machine gun, trying to be precise. Bodies fell, piling up.  
The pain of the bullets ripping through him was very bad, but he tried to ignore it. He knew he could still heal, at least for now, but all too soon they would wear him down enough to kill him.  
Toki concentrated, shooting all that he could.  
And then the gun was empty.

There was a pause on both sides, a break in the gunfire as they regarded one another.  
The army was clearly confused how all their shots hadn’t felled Charles Ofdensen, the guy really _must_ be supernatural! They seemed a little uneasy about the situation now, that as good.  
Toki was just assessing the carnage he’d caused, and feeling his wounds close up completely. He was still good, at least for a while longer. That was a lot of shots, a lot of damage, but Skwisgaar’s blood seemed somehow stronger than what he was used to, healing him faster.  
Many bodies and a lot of blood littered the floor, he’d done pretty well there.

Tossing the now useless gun aside and drawing his knife, Toki let go of all his restraint and just waded in and attacked. Slashing, stabbing, tearing off arms, letting the monster rage, he had to inflict as much damage as possible.  
They screamed then, so much screaming, as he tore into them.  
The monster he’d fought, then accepted, the monster was running free again.  
Blood everywhere, like when he used to waste it, ripping them apart with no thought of mercy.  
Kill _everyone_ , kill everyone he possibly could.

Up close now, trying to rip his way through as many as possible, they were still doing their best to kill him, not backing down, not running.  
Closing all around him, packing tight.  
He was only one, and there were so many! Stepping over bodies, standing on bodies, slipping in blood...  
Ignore the pain, keep destroying. Still healing, but for how long? Slower already?  
They screamed and screamed, only encouraging him.

Lashing out with his knife hand, blindly for the most part, cutting wherever he made contact.  
Pulling them to him with the other, pulling off limbs.  
Ripping out the throat if the arm stayed on long enough to drag them into teeth range.  
He was definitely wearing down now, getting weaker.  
So much pain, but still very capable of killing. Completely soaked in blood, again.

Blood spurting everywhere, but no time at all to drink. This was a form of torture, _knowing_ that he could keep healing probably indefinitely, that he would be completely unstoppable, _if only he could stop and drink_.  
But there was no chance. Even from the ragged stumps of torn off limbs, even when he used his teeth to tear out a throat, he had to just drop it and move on. He caught what spurts he could in his mouth as he fought, but it wasn’t nearly enough, buying him only another kill or two.   
Screaming, screams all around him.

His feet slipped on the blood covered floor, the cheap boots he’d stolen weren’t up for this kind of misuse. Didn’t matter, he was still managing.  
Wearing down fast, taking much longer to heal, the pain staying longer with each shot or stab that they landed, sharp and pulling, deep inside.   
It wasn’t like he’d never lived inside pain before.  
Keep going, as long as possible, ignore the pain.  
As long as possible...

They were still shooting him, and in the chaos, shooting their own on accident. That was good.  
But he was wearing down far too fast now, losing all his strength. So many bodies, how many bodies? Never enough.  
He could no longer tear off limbs, he was down to fighting with his knife, and occasionally his teeth when he got the rare chance to use them.  
He was going to have to make a decision soon, when he could barely even think through the red mist he’d waded deep back into in his mind.  
Time was running out.

If he grabbed one and tried to drink, stopped moving and held still even for a moment, the attack on him would intensify and likely overwhelm him.  
But if he _didn’t_ try to drink, he was so very nearly finished.  
He was running out of time to decide, even if he could think clearly, there was no time to weigh the options.  
He’d killed so many, but so many remained.  
He was bleeding very badly, weak, and nearly done...

If only he could retreat, drag one with him.  
Drink. Recharge, heal, and then wade back in.  
If only...  
But they’d closed so tight all around him, all the ones still standing, and he no longer had a fraction of the strength he’d need to force his way out.  
Barely able to even keep his footing, blood and bodies and limbs.

Feeling every hit he took now, all the way through him, if he was still healing at all it was far too slowly to help him.  
Skwisgaar’s sacrifice had carried him much further than he’d hoped, but now it was running out fast, used up.  
Stumbling a bit over the corpses, so much of the floor covered with them, the rest all blood.  
Wasted blood.  
The red was threatening to fade to creeping black. 

Can’t fight the pain, embrace the pain.  
It hurt to move, to even breathe. One with the pain, the same.  
The screaming, had died down, started again. Nothing he was doing new.  
The illusion had slipped, he wasn’t Ofdensen anymore. They could tell, even through all the blood that covered him.  
Didn’t matter anymore.

There was no more time.  
He threw himself desperately at his closest attacker, biting hard into his neck, slashing with his teeth, sucking, trying to drink as much as he could as fast as he could.  
Bullets ripped through him, everything had become pain.  
But he hadn’t counted on them shooting the man dead, stopping his heart, stopping the blood flow far too soon.  
He dropped the useless meatsack, _it hadn’t been enough_....

A few more, any more he could take down...  
Striking out blindly with his knife, all he could do, cutting and stabbing wherever he felt contact.  
Crowding him even more now, a pack closing in on the kill.  
So close he hardly had room to keep stabbing, but still he kept doing his best.  
Crowding closer, packing tighter, grabbing at his arms.   
Vision was gone, lost to the red.  
Fading to black.

Someone stabbed him hard in the side, several times. Finding a bit of room, lashing back with his knife, he felt rather than saw that body drop.  
They’d all converged on him, for every one he managed to drop, three more took their place.  
He was done, finished, it was over.  
The small amount he’d managed to drink had let him cut through a few more, but not enough, never enough. Still so many...

It was only willpower and pure stubbornness that was keeping him on his feet.  
The pain was finally fading away now, becoming distant, less bright..   
Not healing, but finally dying.  
Surrounded, still jabbing weakly, but no longer even able to tell if he was making contact.  
All grabbing, they took him down, a knife at his throat, and then the blackness took him away.

_Skwisgaar, waits for me..._


End file.
